The Thief Who Came in From The Cold
by Thor
Summary: (New chapter and other fixes, STORY FINISHED.) Harris must face his past as he battles the Sabbat to save his future.
1. Prologue: And Let This Be The Winter of ...

Greetings o fan of Thor's works (or curious new person...whichever) This work is actually a redoing of a tale I had published and posted earlier. however while reviewing it I found many things I wanted to change/fix (many, many things...including whole new sections and changes of dialogue) Well said I (and mind you I said it literally) Well I said, maybe you should just rip down the old and put up the new...it seemed a good idea at the time (literally) and so I did so. I'll be reposting each section as I feel it is once more worthy for viewing. This story is the 2nd official Harris story (The first being 'Of Monsters And Men' ) But it is a stand alone feature, so you don't need to read the other unless you want more background on Harris and Roulda. *Story (and especially a certain sentance) now adjusted* Thus without further ado, please step into the streets of Detroit and meet...

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Prologue: And Let This Be The Winter of Our Discontent 

Winter had come to Detroit. The night skies were gray. The streets lay victim to the damp streams of white that cascaded down upon them. The snow spiraled down from the sky, cold and white against the vast gray bleakness above and the deep dark blackness below. For a few instants the flakes even appeared like the innocent dances of whimsical fairies, until they finally reached their destination. The cold and drippy snow splattered against the windshield of the small beat up Volvo that sat in the middle of the parking lot. The noises of the city were subdued, hardly noticeable besides the occasional honk. Looming buildings swept skyward around the lot and the car. Their massive and dark shadows cloaked the car in their long concealing darkness. It could almost be called calm and peaceful. But, as in so many things, this was best known only as the calm before the storm.

Inside the car a lone figure waited, her eyes closed in contemplation as she quietly tapped out a tune on the dashboard. To those who knew it the tune was easily recognizable as Holst's 'Mars, The Bringer of War'. Another figure walked slowly across the damp and slush covered cement. It approached the car and tapped on the window. Inside the woman opened an eye to glance at the form outside. The eye flashed, a shining bright blue that seemed to cut to the soul of whatever she looked at. She grinned and motioned for the figure to open the door. The massive shadow did so, revealing the second occupant of the car. 

He was a middle aged man with dark hair and finely trimmed beard and mustache. His face was that of a noble, proud of bearing and heritage. Only a few lines marred his patrician visage. Slight frown lines around the mouth. Small marks around the eyes from scowling. A tiny crease on the lips from pursing them in frustration once too often. He wore a fine gray suit and large, comfortable overcoat. But it was apparent all was not well with him. His face was strained, his hair ruffled and mussed. His expensive gray business suit was rumpled and dirty. His heavy overcoat damp from snow and smudged with dirt. It would have shocked those who knew him. For he was Eric, member of the powerful Ventrue clan, a kindred, a vampire. His power was great in the city, for he was seneschal of Detroit. Second in authority only to Prince Steven himself.

But now, despite his powers, all Eric could do was groan weakly as he attempted to fight off the massive hands that clamped down around his throat. The dark shadow appeared unimpressed by his struggles and easily dragged him from the car. The figure held Eric out with one arm, as it reached into its coat. It pulled out a polished stake of wood. Eric whimpered slightly, his urbane features twisting up in helpless fear. The massive shape easily plunged the stake through Eric's chest and deep into his heart.

The woman climbed out of the car smoothly. Her long and slightly curling blonde hair blew lightly about her face. Her skin was pale white, almost resembling polished ivory. One blue gloved hand reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She tilted her head back as she looked up to the dark sky above her. Her full red lips curled slightly at the corners as she smiled. She stretched out her arms, as though inviting the flowing spirals of snow to come to her. The frozen droplets fell upon her pale, bare flesh. The icy water dripped down her alabaster skin, coursing in tiny rivulets over her gentle curves. The delicate crystals that caught in her flowing hair didn't melt, neither did the flakes catching against her face.

The large figure gripped Eric firmly by his coat and dragged him along. He quickly circled the car and opened an umbrella with his spare hand. He held it over the woman's head as he stood near her protectively. She paused to glance over at him with a small smile, her bright blue eyes flashing. The towering figure remained stoic and quiet, though the observant viewer would note the trace of unease...and passion in his eyes. She smiled at him, her blue eyes gleaming as she brushed away the snow from her face. She turned slowly and walked carefully through the damp snow. Her blue heels clicked on the pavement as she sauntered towards the second car. She grinned to herself as the massive figure walked alongside her, holding Eric as easily as the umbrella. 

The mission had been a full success. The rest would be child's play. Soon Detroit would be finished. The Camarilla would fall before the fires of the Sabbat, and this time they would totally annihilate Prince Steven and the other elders. She didn't laugh, but the twinkling fires in her eyes danced eagerly at the thought. 

* * *

Steven sat in his parlor listening to Mozart's 40th Symphony. Outside the swirling snow beat against the windowpane, the chill night held at bay by the crackling fire set before him. He reclined in a lush leather chair. His features were near identical to those of his seneschal. It was widely believed that Eric had spent many nights attempting to craft himself in Steven's image. But Steven's aristocratic manner was readily apparent, and for him totally natural. 

His face held no telltale lines of displeasure or anger. Only a calm assuredness in his own status. His finely fashioned black suit was crisp and unrumpled in the least. One well manicured hand slowly tapped a gleaming crystal goblet in tune to the music. He watched the light play off the gleaming diamonds on his ring as he swung his hand. His highly polished shoes reflected his image back to him as he rested them on the head of the young woman who lay crumpled, bled dry, on the floor in front of him. A slight knock at the door caused him to glance up.

"Enter."

The door slid smoothly open to reveal the stooped form of Nicolai. The primogen of the Nosferatu clan of Detroit. The disfigured Kindred walked quickly across the room and bowed slightly to Steven. His long and tangled beard almost brushing the floor. He looked up at the prince and frowned slightly. The creases from the frown forced even deeper and more unnatural lines to form on his gray and peeling visage. A large insect crawled out of his beard and skittered up his face. Nicolai quickly reached up and snatched it off.

"My prince, I bring news most urgent." Steven knew it was so, Nicolai wasn't in the habit of ever leaving his sewer home. And any information that the primogen saw fit to deliver personally boded ill for his city. He motioned for Nicolai to come closer.

"What is it?"

"Eric has been captured by the Sabbat." Every inch of motion about Steven ceased. Even his eyes remained unblinkingly open.

"When?"

"Early tonight, outside of The Michigan Tower...." 

* * *

Eric walked out of the gleaming office complex and into the dancing streams of snow outside. He had just finished laying down some of the prince's edicts onto a band of foolish neonates. He frowned as he recalled their rude comments and remarks. They would learn to respect him, they would learn his power in this city. He brushed some flakes of snow off his coat as he fantasized about what he would do to them. One of his ghoul guards shifted uneasily and Eric again began walking towards his waiting ride. His four bodyguards stood about him, ever alert for any danger to him. 

Eric waited as they opened his door for him. Even as he stooped to get in to his limo he heard a groan and a small thump. Curious he stepped back and looked around. The sound had come from around the side of the building. He took a few steps over so he could glance around the corner. A small silver Volvo sat there, pulled up part way onto the sidewalk. A young woman with long blonde hair and dressed in a small blue dress and blue coat stood near it. She muttered again and kicked one of the wheels. She placed her hands on her hips as she eyed the car, as though her ire would somehow start it back up again. He felt a slight hiss within him, he had worked up a bit of an appetite...

Eric grinned as he eyed the slim figure. Her body seemed to be sculpted from alabaster by the hands of some long dead master. Her hair was flowing and luxurious as it spun and danced like gleaming golden silk in the wind. The tight dress left little to the imagination, the small coat not so much concealing as adding a sense of childlike innocence. Flashing blue eyes seemed to almost burst into tears as they eyed her ruined transportation. She shivered and muttered again as the snow started to fall thicker around her. Eric placed his hands back into his overcoat and began strolling towards her. A nod of his head left his ghoul guards hanging back a respectful, if minor, distance. He drifted up silently, she was too worried about her car to even note his approach.

"Is there a problem young lady," Eric asked with his usual aplomb. He saw the slight jump of her shoulders at his voice. Could imagine how her young fresh heart would be racing under her soft white skin. She glanced up at him and smiled nervously.

"My car..."

"Broken?"

Yes," she smiled as she lowered her head shyly.

"Perhaps I can be of service," Eric raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Two of his personal guard rushed over from his car to stand on either side of him. The woman looked up in surprise, her blue eyes wide as she eyed the two large men in black suits.

"My...who are they?"

"Associates," he glanced at them, "the young lady's car needs fixing." They nodded, understanding their role in this. Eric walked over to stand by her as the ghouls popped her hood and began to check the engine. Eric knew they would claim that they were unable to fix whatever the problem was. He smelled deeply of her fragrance, a sweet subtle scent. He would, of course, being a gentleman then offer her a ride. He turned and smiled at her, allowing some minor amount of his powers to influence others to sweep over her. It would be easier if she considered him a trustworthy friend after all. "My name is Eric."

"Oh! Sorry, my name is Desiree Cerulean. Thank you very much for helping me." Her face was bright, her eyes like blue fires. Her breath clouded around her delicately. She placed her hands in her coat and hunched her shoulders as she shivered slightly in the cold. He could feel his hunger for her rise, only his decades of discipline prevented him from tearing into her then and there. "Thank you so much for helping me."

"Think nothing of it," he said with a slight chuckle. He moved closer to her, allowing his presence to flow yet stronger against her. He saw her sink her eyes even more shyly away from him, obviously confused by how he was making her feel. "I do consider it my civic duty to help those in need. Especially the beautiful ones."

"Oh!" A hand was lifted from her jacket to gently cover her mouth as she laughed lightly. She peered up at him from the corner of her eyes, the white gleam of her teeth visible behind her bright red lips. Eric felt a urge to kiss those lips. Bite them. Stain them yet redder. The hunger grew within him, gods she was perfect! She gripped one of his hands as she turned towards him and looked deeply into his eyes. "So tell me, are you a good boy? Or is this all some trick to get to know me?" 

Eric smiled, "if it is I must be a mastermind to have gotten your car to break down."

"True, so are you being good?"

"I didn't say that." He felt his hunger sharpen. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this one. Perhaps he might even keep her for a few days. There was something about her, a heat that urged him to want her. Desire her. Need her. Her eyes danced as she pressed herself against him.

"How can I ever repay you?" Eric grinned and ran his finger lightly across his lips.

"I suspect I can conceive of one way or another." His eyes danced down her lithe and curvaceous form. The soft material of the dress, the short supple jacket. He smelled deeply of her as he reached out to brush at her hair. She smiled at him, her eyes bewitching sapphire pools.

"You better think fast."

"Whatever for, I enjoy you being in my debt." He leaned in closer. "Now, how do you plan to work off this debt?" 

"Sir," one of the ghouls looked up, his tone tense and alert, "nothing is wrong with..."

Desiree suddenly planted a knife in Eric's gut, he felt himself lose almost all muscle control and drop to the snowy ground. Red blood spilling from his gut. The two ghouls went for their guns, but Desiree had already whipped out a pair of gleaming .45 automatics from under her coat. She easily planted two bullets in each of their heads. She spun around as the other two guards leapt from their car and fired at her. Bullets hissed over her as she easily dropped to one knee on the snowy sidewalk. Her eyes flashed as she looked at them, they tried to shift their weapons lower. She blasted a round into each of their knees. As they dropped she fired two more bullets into each of them. The ghouls howled in pain and fell back.

"C'mon asshole."

One of her guns disappeared in a flash into her coat. One blue gloved hand snapped out and grabbed Eric. With a curse she heaved him into her car. She slammed the door shut and turned to circle around the car. As she passed the front she slammed down the hood and headed for the driver's seat. She passed between the first two ghouls as she walked. They grunted as they started to stagger up, fighting off their injuries, the blood of their master healing their wounds. Desiree smirked at them. The one who had yelled the warning rose directly in front of her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Her long shapely leg flashed up as she kicked him in the face, he grunted and was thrown backward to fall into the street. 

The second was pulling himself up with the car. As she passed she idly tilted her gun towards him and pumped three bullets into his back at point blank range. He grunted as he sank back down to the dirty snow of the street. Desiree leaped into the car and floored it. As she roared away she laughed at the bumps the car made as it drove over the two ghouls. 

* * *

"...She quickly withdrew and my men lost track," sighed Nicolai as he finished his story. He leaned back in his chair and bit into the bug he had been holding. Their was a soft crunch and sucking noise as he slurped up its insides. Nicolai shook his head as he slipped the remains back under his rags. "One of Eric's ghouls died, but I think that was simply coincidence. She was just getting him, and seemed unimpressed by them."

"Who was she," asked Steven, still unmoving in his chair.

"Not a Sabbat," Nicolai handed Steven a dingy manila folder. The prince idly flipped it open and glanced at the small list of known facts about the woman. Nicolai shifted uneasily as he continued. "It appears she is an independent contractor. An Assamite." 

"Damn."

"From what I hear a very good one, specializes in kidnapping and torture....and, of course, destroying bothersome kindred."

"Of course."

"I am unsure of where exactly she took him, we're still questioning the ghouls about any other facts they may have overlooked."

"Like something as simple as a license plate."

"Yes, Eric could have picked his men better." Steven frowned as he set the folder down. This was bad business, Eric knew far too much about the inner workings of the city to be allowed to remain long in enemy hands. If word of this spread there could be a panic. Yet he would need every Kindred he could spare trying to locate his lost childe. Steven's eyes narrowed as he readied for action.

"We need him free or dead."

"I am well aware," said Nicolai quietly.

"I'll contact Octavian. I want every one of your clan working on this immediately."

"Yes, my prince."

"Remember, we have only until they break him."


	2. Chapter One: A Gathering of Fools

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Chapter One: A Gathering of Fools 

Eric slowly opened his eyes. He was hanging upside down inside a small windowless room. Small clouds of dust spiraled around the filthy floor. His throat felt coated with the stuff. His muscles were still slightly stiff from whatever that woman had done to paralyze him. He felt the minor stab of pain from the hole in his chest where the stake had been driven into him. With a thought he sent blood flowing to the location to heal the wound. He looked around, three figures were in the room with him. One was Desiree, she stood with her arms crossed, a smile on her beautiful face. The second was her large friend, the towering beast glowered at him, its thick features a mask of barely repressed rage. The last was a young man with thick dark hair and dressed in black leathers. His green eyes glinted with glee as he smirked at Eric. Eric knew him...Michael Cooler, Archbishop of Windsor. Eric groaned.

"Wakey wakey Eric," said Cooler with a grin. The dangerous archbishop tightened the black leather gloves he wore as he slowly circled around Eric's hanging form. His green eyes sparkled in amusement as he eyed his prize. He grinned, his broad and strong face splitting into a wicked smile. "Time to say hello to the world again."

"If I had known the world would contain you I never would have bothered," sneered Eric in a patrician tone. He glanced up at Cooler, acting as though the man was simply beneath him. "What do you want?"

"I think you know what I want," said Cooler as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a map of Detroit. He waved it slightly in front of Eric's face. "You do know what I want, don't you?"

"Yes."

"So, tell me."

"Tell you the sleeping areas and defenses of as many elders as I know? What's the likelihood if I do so I get out of here alive."

"What's your likelihood of living if you don't?" Cooler shoved the map back into his coat with a frustrated curse. Eric simply grinned back up at him. Cooler might be good at playing the games of the Sabbat, but he was a rank amateur compared to the Camarilla. How sad to so obviously show what you desired, and express your emotions clearly when denied. Eric chuckled slightly, despite his obviously weak position he suddenly felt more in control.

"As long as I say nothing you don't kill me. For you need the information I possess."

"I'll admit that point," snarled Cooler as ran a hand through his thick, dark hair in frustration. Eric simply nodded and continued to easily smile. Cooler's expression just grew darker and more annoyed. "But the longer you hold out the less important your info becomes."

"Touché," conceded Eric. Cooler's mouth curled back as he snarled. His fists clenched together tightly. Then he seemed to regain himself and smiled back.

"You Camarilla...I always get bent out of shape having to talk with you guys. Probably because you don't understand things a Sabbat would have already grasped." Eric's smile slipped only fractionally, but he forced himself to keep it up. Confident that Cooler hadn't caught the slip. The cocky Sabbat proved it by simply continuing his diatribe. "I know you already met Desiree here, she's a master of putting the hurt on people." The woman in blue grinned at him. "The big guy is called Roulda, he's a Tzimisce. I know you know what that can mean." Cooler chuckled as he patted Roulda's shoulder, the dark shape didn't change expression. "Oh, and he likes to hurt things." Eric forced himself to appear calm as the massive creature grinned down at him and nodded. Cooler walked over to stand right in front of Eric.

"Now you can talk to me," Cooler crouched down, his black leather pants creaking slightly as he did. His powerful and handsome face leaned in close to Eric's. "Cause as you can see I'm being very pleasant. Or...you can talk to them. Which I don't think you'll enjoy as much." Eric laughed at Cooler, he shook his head at the silliness of it all. It was all so predictable. The silly threats. The stupid posturing. Cooler frowned and slowly stood. He looked down at the trapped Ventrue and his eyes narrowed. Cooler grinned and suddenly kicked Eric dead on the face. Eric felt his jaw snap as he swung violently back and forth. He had to admit, he hadn't expected that. "Your call bucky boy," growled Cooler "But I bet you regret it real soon. See ya around...maybe." Cooler turned and walked from the room. The other two smiled and turned back to Eric.

"Comfortable there," the girl asked with a grin. Her voice still soft and gentle.

"Oh, very," mumbled Eric sarcastically around his broken jaw. She just smiled, her blue eyes flashing dangerously as she walked over and patted his chest gently. Eric suddenly felt an odd chill of fear creep down his spine. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so rude to Cooler after all... She leaned down and brushed softly at his hair as she whispered to him.

"Well, we can fix that." 

* * *

Octavian opened the door of his car and stepped out onto the street. The dread sheriff of Detroit was dressed in his usual brown coat and brown suit. His dark hair was trimmed short, his dark eyes seemed to take in everything. He looked at the club sitting across the roadway. His dark eyes cast over the crowd waiting outside. Many of the kine obviously suffering in their scant outfits due to the biting cold of the wind and snow. Others were bundled up in thick coats, still trying to appear dashing despite their cumbersome attire. He looked at the brightly pulsing neon sign above the doorway. The Pulse, one of the most popular clubs in town. Hangout of the Brujah...and the anarchs.

Steven would not approve of his actions, but Octavian knew what could happen if the Sabbat broke Eric. Already the city was abuzz, and even elders were panicking and desperately trying to create new havens. Already dozens of arguments had erupted when one kindred had placed his new hiding place within the territory of another. It was mostly frightening to those with the most power in the city, for they had spent time with Eric the most. Revealed secrets to him more then would a lesser Kindred. 

They needed Eric back or dead, and they needed it fast, else the city might just rip itself apart. Already Steven had been forced to issue threats about the moving of havens. Already two Kindred were dead. They needed Eric...and he didn't have enough men to hold the city together and deal with the necessary search. Thus far all he had was a call from one of his childer. 

As a Lasombra she had easily infiltrated the local Sabbat years ago. Her information had saved the Camarilla from any number of plots. However Cooler seemed to be playing this one close to his chest, even the other bishops knew little. All his childe could tell him was that Eric hadn't been brought across the river for holding. That meant it was the worse sections of Detroit that needed searching. And that had been the reason for him coming here. Octavian squared his shoulders and walked quickly across the slushy gray snow of the street towards the entrance of The Pulse. He deftly avoided the few cars that were still out on the road, their glaring headlights streaking across him in blinding flashes. He pressed his way easily through the crowd, making sure to occasionally breath out a misty breath of air to help hide his true nature. The pair of bouncers at the door stopped him as he started up the steps.

"Sorry pal, you ain't on the approved list." The two large figures easily blocked his path. Octavian glanced up at them, they were ghouls, probably in service to Carnellia, Brujah owner of the bar. And probably with orders to detain him while they warned Carnellia of his coming. Any other night he would have been amused and played her game, but not tonight.

"Let me in, now." His eyes narrowed, the kine in the crowd shifted uneasily as they caught the tone in his voice that marked him as a predator. But the ghouls weren't so easily intimidated.

"Forget about it," grunted the bouncer as he leaned in menacingly. Octavian sighed and let loose with a small amount of his mental powers. He pointed to either side of the doors while looking the bouncers in the eye.

"Move," the single word seemed to carry the power of a threatening speech. As if they were stumbling puppets the massive figures stepped to the sides of the door, their minds overwhelmed by his iron will. Octavian promptly entered the club, behind him he heard the complaining whine of the humans he had bypassed in the long line. 

As he stepped through the doors he was struck by an almost solid wall of music, the beats seeming to smash against him like physical things. The air of the club was thick and stuffy, the snow on his coat quickly melting in the steamy interior. He squinted against the strobe of the purple and red lights as he shoved his way around the dance floor towards the upper level. As he did he spotted the unmistakable purple mohawked figure of Francis, a minor player amongst the anarchs, watching from the balcony. The Brujah pulled off his small red glasses as he looked down at Octavian, he then turned and rushed off. Probably to warn the anarchs who were partying in the club that the sheriff was in town.

Once again, any other night he might have played the game. But he couldn't just let them all slip away. He pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside drunk teenagers and goth freaks as he continued forward quickly. Behind him he heard the angry yells from kids with spilled drinks and torn dresses. Even as Octavian reached the stairs he was accosted by Carnellia, the Brujah elder who owned the club. He glanced her over quickly. Her short blonde hair was swinging freely around her face, and she was dressed in a gleaming white halter top and white disco pants combo. No apparent hidden weapons. She snaked her arm through his, and tried to slow his pace and turn him towards the bar.

"Hello Octavian, you should have called so I could arrange a nice seat for you." Carnellia smiled at him easily as she tossed her head back towards the doors, her blonde hair flipping about her face. The sweaty strands sticking together in small clumps. "Did you have any trouble with the boys out front? They're new and might not have known you."

"No, no problems at all," said Octavian as he continued up the stairs, dragging her along with him. Carnellia muttered in annoyance as she was forced to untangle from him in order to follow him up the crowded steps. Octavian shoved past a sweaty dancing couple as he continued up. Carnellia followed closely, her voice starting to sound strained.

"I suppose you'd like to talk with me in a nice quiet back room? We have available ones downstairs, the upstairs ones are full at the moment." She brushed away the groping hands of a young man she had apparently been dancing with moments before as she continued on in Octavian's wake. "You did come to speak with me, right?"

"No," he rounded the midpoint and continued up past the young teens making out and drinking on the large staircase. Smoke stung at his eyes as the pounding beats of the speakers grew louder. Carnellia was growing desperate as she rushed along after him, going so far as to roughly shove aside some of her own patrons.

"Then you're looking for somebody, maybe I could help."

"I need to speak with Belle."

"Ha ha ha, I'm sure you realize I don't let anarchs in my clubs." Her voice was a shade over high, alerting him to her nervousness. Octavian paused and spun around to look down at her. Carnellia's eyes lifted to look at his.

"I'm sure I realize about anarchs' roles in your clubs." Carnellia grimaced at the barely hidden barb in Octavian's words as he turned away and continued up the final few stairs. He stepped out into the upper club and sitting area. Carnellia bounded up after him, she clutched at his hand and tugged it to try to get his attention. Octavian cast his gaze over the crowded second story. Dozens of small tables littered the large balcony. The hazy air was thick with the smoke of their cigarettes. Sure enough, there wasn't a known anarch in sight. Damn, he'd been just a little too slow. Octavian's eyes looked back at some of the doors to the private rooms that circled the back wall. Still...they wouldn't have been able to get out of the club yet.

"Then what makes you..." started in Carnellia, still trying to distract and slow him.

"Eric's been captured by the Sabbat." Carnellia froze. He had suspected that she hadn't heard, the rumor had yet to spread away from the Toreador and Ventrue yet. Neither clan being likely to mention the danger to the Brujah. Octavian kept looking around the tables, but was certain all the anarchs were in hiding somewhere. It looked like he would have to angle for some cooperation now. Caught by her own curiosity Carnellia leaned in to him. Anxious for more information.

"When?"

"Tonight. I need to speak with Belle, I need her help." Carnellia chewed her lip as she looked at Octavian. He saw the slight light of worry in her eyes. Worry for her own life because of Eric or worry for her life because Octavian might nail her as an anarch sympathizer? He wasn't sure, but only one of them mattered now. "You have my word of honor that I only want to talk."

"What about me?" Her voice was timid and concerned.

"If you can get me a meeting with Belle now I'll consider it a favor." Her eyes danced back and forth as she considered the risks and rewards. He sighed, he really didn't have the time for this. "I'll consider it my favor that I'm not going to bring to Steven's attentions your dealings with the anarchs." Her eyes looked up to him in surprise. "Not unless you become more overt then you currently are."

"Done." She nodded quickly at him, Octavian returned the gesture, though slower and more dignified. Carnellia turned and headed off through the crowd. Octavian followed. She led him back to one of the rear offices. She knocked on the door, Octavian memorized the pattern. Then it opened, Carnellia grabbed him and pulled him through with her. 

A pair of guns were pressed against the back of his head. Octavian frowned, apparently he had only heard the 'danger coming' knock. Carnellia swung the door closed. The beating roar of the music died away. The private area was small, with the only furnishings being a large bed and a fan. Across the room stood Doc, the eldest and most powerful of the anarchs. He was dressed in his usual Stetson hat and black duster, a clove cigarette was gently smoking in his left hand. His right hovered near the gleaming revolver in his gun belt.

"Howdy sheriff, do I got till sunup ta clear outta town?" Octavian knew that it would be damned foolish to believe that Doc was half as uneducated as he was appearing. Though he did admit that he suspected the Brujah to really take some of the cowboy stuff too seriously. He kept one eye closely on Doc's gunhand.

"I need to speak with Belle."

"Really? What about?"

"Eric has been captured by the Sabbat, I need all the help I can get tracking him down. I want the anarchs to help look."

"Funny how you always come to us when you need help," Doc shoved his cigarette into his mouth as he sneered, "but then forget about us later."

"If you're referring to your help during the last Sabbat attack don't blame me. Prince Steven requested your aide, you made your deal with him. It was his decision to have so many of you driven from town or dusting a sunrise."

"But I seem to recall you being the fella staking us to rooftops or burning down havens."

"Yes, but remember there is a distinction. I don't make policy, I enforce it." Doc's other hand suddenly snapped up with a cocked pistol pointing into Octavian's eye. Octavian hadn't even time to flinch in surprise.

"Bang, you're dead," snickered Doc, his tone joking yet his eyes seeming deadly serious. Nearby Carnellia grew tense as she watched the display. Obviously not pleased with the thought that the two deadly warriors might decide to battle it out in the middle of her club. Doc's eyes were narrow and dark as he watched Octavian.

"Are you going to kill me or help me," Octavian said calmly. "I don't have a lot of time."

"Balls," said Doc with a nod of his head, "ya definitely have got a big set o balls."

"Yes." Doc grinned at the slight joke, behind him Octavian heard a short laugh from the anarch behind him. A female laugh. He gauged the height of the gun holder by the angle of the barrels pressing into him. Doc rapidly twirled his gun around and returned it to its holster. 

"What's in it for us?"

"Safety, Eric knows plenty about you as well. Besides, with the elders gone what chance will you have against the Sabbat. They'd sweep through here like bats out of hell, and you'd find out exactly what it is Steven's been protecting you from for you all these years."

"They keep asking us to join their side."

"That's a fools offer," Octavian shrugged slightly, then twisted his head a bit as he addressed the figure behind him. "Wouldn't you agree Belle?" Octavian felt the barrels shift slightly against his head. Carnellia's eyes widened in surprise. Doc sneered. Octavian grinned, he had guessed right about his guard. "Are you going to speak with me, or not?" The guns were removed from his head as La Belle Dame Sans Moris, the leader of the anarchs, walked around in front of him.

"Enchante Octavian," she said with a slight nod of her head. A trace of a French accent fairly noticeable in her voice.

"Hello Belle." She was dressed in torn jeans and a tight T-shirt with some boy pop band sprawled across it. The shirt left her midriff bare, and the pants were pulled low, to reveal the upper half of a masterful tattoo of an angel upon her belly. Belle's long black hair hung wildly around her face. She still held her twin revolvers. Octavian knew better then to judge her too quickly on appearance as just a foolish gang-banger. Under her leadership the anarchs had swelled in numbers and power within Detroit. She had also proved a excellent leader in wartime, helping the anarchs inflict deadly casualties to their foes. La Belle Dame Sans Moris, the beautiful woman of your death, truly lived up to her name.

"Why does Steven want our help?"

"He doesn't, but I realize that as far as knowing some of the seedier streets, the anarchs are our best bet. You search through the lower class areas you lay claim to, as well as South Detroit. Me and my men will do the others."

"You don't want us to head into Windsor?"

"No, I want you to search Detroit."

"Why just Detroit?"

"Because I have a solid spy in the Sabbat, and he assures me that they aren't holding Eric in Windsor." Belle nodded and filled away the information. Octavian grinned, amused that she thought she could possibly figure out who his childe was. After all, Octavian had done nothing but spread misinformation about her, like calling her him, for many years.

"What about Grosse Point."

"I have men who'll search there, I just need you to handle the rough sections, I don't have the men to spare for a full search of the city. We need to find him quickly."

"And if we find mosiuer Eric," asked Belle suspiciously. Octavian handed her a small card.

"Call me at this number, we'll handle the rest." He waited as she took the card and glanced at the number. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she glanced at his face and studied him for a few silent moments. Octavian waited patiently, knowing he already had her.

"Doc?"

"I think it's a good idea," said Doc softly with a small nod. Octavian glanced over at the Brujah, once again being reminded not to take the anarch for too dimwitted. "We have a lot to lose if Eric starts talking."

"Agreed, we shall do this."

"Good, get the word out." Octavian turned and walked out of the room. Carnellia nodded to the two anarchs as she drifted out as well. Her mind occupied with thoughts of finding a new haven for herself.

"Still think it a good idea," Belle asked Doc as the door closed. She glanced over at the thin man as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth and puffed out a small ring of smoke. His brows furrowed as he thought about it, and then he slowly nodded.

"Yes, better the devils you know, as they say."

"And if we find Eric first?"

Doc grinned, "maybe we could ask him a few questions of our own." 


	3. Chapter Two: Overture of Danger

Ugh, I feel the torture that is re-writing. Amazing how I seem able to read anything and spot errors, but on my own work I'm as blind as a abt half the time. (A problem of being too close to the material I suppose.) In any case I think I'm back on track with this piece, I've patched up a lot (especially a certain troubling opening sentance...) And I offer humble and grateful thanks to those reviewers who care enough to point out my own errors (or are just looking for quick and easy revenge for the paragraphs I've written on them) In any case The main flow of the story will now start, as I've established the plot and now is the time for our hero (yay!) to make his appearance. So, enough said, read and have fun!

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Chapter Two: Overture of Danger 

The doors swung wide open again as another anarch stormed into the warehouse, the billowing chill wind blowing in with him. Small white flakes of snow gusted across the floor before the door was again closed. The cold and dim warehouse was slowly filling up. La Belle had asked for every anarch in town to attend. A collection of beat up aluminum chairs were scattered about the room for those who wanted to sit. The walls were coated with a wide assortment of tags and gang signs. Souvenirs of some of the anarchs who had grown too bored during previous meetings. The wide and bizarre assortment of Kindred who considered themselves anarchs were starting to crowd into seats. Everything from tragic looking goths, mohawk sporting punks, and tie-dyed hippies were present and waiting for Belle to start.

Belle herself didn't stand on any platform or stage, she merely waited patiently in the middle area of the room. When she called the meeting to order everyone would quiet and she would speak. None could claim that she had been giving orders. Orders after all would seem too controlling, and the anarchs all considered themselves free to do as they please. Belle had always supported this concept, claiming she didn't give commands to the others. Yet she was, though even she wouldn't admit it. It was a somewhat backwards system. Though it was relaxingly reminiscent enough of the Sabbat's methods of leadership in many ways. She raised her hand and the group quieted, she wasn't the leader, just the first amongst equals. He almost chuckled.

It was all mildly amusing in its way. Not that she wasn't the sort who deserved that type of respect. Belle was a good leader, of that he was sure. That was why he followed the anarchs, that was why he came to all the meetings. Harris sat in the far back of the gathering as he listened to Belle described the problem. The seneschal kidnapped, need to find him fast, search of the city, sheriff knows he's in Detroit due to Sabbat spy. Harris shook his head, sounded like trouble the anarchs didn't need. Admittedly it wasn't his position to say. He had yet to consider himself truly a member of the group. At least not one to dictate to others what to do. No, he wasn't the sort to ask for sound advice on responses to problems.

Harris shook his head, his gray eyes turning away from Belle as she spoke on. He lifted one of his finely manicured hands and brushed at a bit of dust that had ended up on his light gray suit . He had joined with the local anarchs after defecting from the Sabbat about four months ago. He figured the Camarilla wouldn't trust him. Hell, the anarchs didn't exactly trust him either, but at least they were honest about it. But now Belle wanted them hunting down Sabbat? The anarch gangs wouldn't last three minutes against a Sabbat pack. As for him, he was just as happy not messing with his old comrades. Harris sighed, he'd probably just skip out on this job and...

He paused as he heard the description of the kidnapper. A woman dressed in blue calling herself Desiree Cerulean. An Assamite. Desiree Cerulean. Dressed in blue. Harris felt his muscles tense as he recalled something from long ago. Back when he had been a killer. Back when the inner demon had ruled his life. Back when he had worked for a hidden and dark society. He felt along the inside of his hand, ran his fingers across the crescent shaped tattoo there. The tattoo he showed to no one for fear of what they might think. The Hand, it had been back when he had worked for the Black Hand. 

Cerulean, another word for blue. Desiree, a name meaning desire. Blue desire...she wore blue. 

He had known a killer then. A lover, a confidant. Her name had been Blue. He had joked with her over a name with no meaning. She had pointed out there was little meaning in Harris. That was true. True Blue he had called her. She had been too deadly to ever have to lie or hide her opinions. Blue, she of the cold fires. The fires that had burned away at his mind and made her whispered suggestions bellowed orders. She had worked with him and Falco on a few missions. She had been very good, too good. Too dangerous to trust. Falco had almost quit the sect to follow her when she had returned to her clan. The Assamites, a clan of assassins, a clan of killers. Killers who only hunted other vampires, all in the name of Caine-the first vampire.

Blue...how long had it been? Ten years? Twelve? She was good, very good. Too good for any anarch punk to get the drop on her. And that was Belle's plan, get Eric before Octavian so the anarchs can question him first. If they tried that with Blue there would be trouble. Big trouble. Bloody trouble. The clean you up with a mop and plastic bag kind of trouble. And that was assuming she hadn't stuck to her old feeding habits. Harris shook his head. They would need professional help on this one, and he was the only professional around. Harris sighed, he had hoped to catch the concert out in the park tonight. But then...he had hoped for many things, in his life. What was one more disappointment? 

He waited while the meeting ended and most of the anarchs left. He didn't care to fight the crowd on his way out. As he sat there he heard them discussing such burningly intelligent questions as 'If I were a kidnapper...'

Like that would work. What sort of idiot started an investigation with that question? He heard the roar of their cars and bikes as they all sped off to go look for glory. All they'd find was their death.

Harris stood up and walked out of the warehouse and into the cold night. The snows had died down and the night sky gone crystal clear. Stars twinkled overhead, lending an almost unearthly quality to the frozen city. The wind rustled at his brown hair as he placed his hands into his black overcoat's pockets and thought. He thought about the anarchs and Blue.

Yes, they would need a professional. Yes, he was the best chance they had. But did he dare? Could he face her again? There was an old and dangerous feeling that stirred in his gut at the thought of her. It purred almost seductively, wanting out to play. He shook his head at it, pushed it back down. He wasn't that man anymore. Not anymore...

Harris sighed and began to walk down the sidewalk. The snow crunching softly under his polished black shoes. He softly hummed a tune under his breath, Holst's Neptune, The Mystic. They wouldn't even know where to begin thinking like Blue. First you'd have to take away accountability and acceptance of limitations. Then you'd have to deep freeze your brain. Harris shook his head as he walked, there was no way any of those young licks were going to figure her out. No one could. He smirked at the thought that came into his head then, almost laughed at the foolishness of it all.

'If I were Blue...' He shook his head again and kept walking. Suddenly he paused.

"If I were Blue, I wouldn't always tell my employer my plans," he said in a half whisper to himself. Harris nodded, oh yeah, that was her. She'd give them a spot, then she'd move and tell them the next spot. Blue trusted no one. That had been Falco's mistake. He had thought Blue trusted him, but then Falco had also trusted... Harris forced his mind quickly away from that line of thought. It was a path he didn't care to tread. Falco was dead, an old friend, an old death. Just let it go.

He thought again of Blue, he knew what she would have done. Any information gleaned from the Sabbat wasn't to be trusted, they wouldn't really know. That was it, she would toy with them as she toyed with everything. He could find her, he knew he could. And then? Best think of that later, he had to protect his new home. It wouldn't be in his interests if the Sabbat claimed Detroit, he'd be near the top of the lists of those to die. He began walking faster, as he did he heard footsteps crunching in the snow from behind. He scowled as he turned.

"Hello mon ami," said Belle in her soft French accent.

"Greetings," added Doc. 

Harris glanced from one anarch leader to the other. He hadn't spoken much with any of the anarchs. He'd been happy enough once they let him join, he wasn't in this for the friends. Besides, most of the anarchs were fools, hardly worth the time to kill them. But not these two. They were still fools of a sort, but they were dangerous fools. It worried him that they had sought him out. He'd preferred it when nobody noticed him.

"Can I help you?"

"You used to work for the Sabbat, no?"

"No is right, used to, past tense."

"But what did you do for them," pressed Belle, her wide eyes watching him carefully. Harris cursed to himself. He had thought he had kept the truth well hidden, but Belle always seemed to have at least one hidden source of info on anyone. But how much had she learned? He mentally shrugged to himself, she actually couldn't know much about him. After all, he was still alive.

"Covert operations," he figured better some truth now then all the truth later.

"Really? So I guess you'd know something about how a hired killer might work?"

"Possibly," allowed Harris. He watched the two anarchs carefully, suspecting they had planned out this conversation already. He had a vague suspicion he wouldn't like their planned ending to it.

"So," Doc cut in, "where you going?"

"Windsor."

"Windsor," echoed Belle in shock, "why?"

"That's where Eric will be." Harris placed his hands in his overcoat while the two anarchs stepped back and talked amongst themselves. He didn't like where this was headed, the last thing he needed was some clumsy anarch squad underfoot. Though he doubted Belle would let him refuse. Probably saddle him with a bunch of maddened Brujah who couldn't tell the difference between surreptitiousness and superstitious. He'd probably spend half his time trying to pick up after them...

"We're coming with you," Belle finally said. Harris' eyes widened. Oh hell, this was worse. He couldn't deal with Blue and put up with a pair of idealistic anarchs who were just canny enough to be leaders. Especially not considering some of the secrets he still held from them. Like being in the Hand, and his true clan, and...so much about himself. He shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh?" Belle laughed at his words, then her voice went cold. Canny, politician cold. "How good an idea is it for a Sabbat defector to go back into their turf alone?"

"Especially when we don't fully trust said defector yet," added Doc. Belle nodded at the words. Harris grew silent. He stood there and thought it over. They had him. He could either give them what they wanted, or fall under even more scrutiny later. He sighed, at least this way he'd be in control of his own fate. At least as much as he ever seemed to be in control...

"Hope you don't mind getting dirty." 

* * *

Michael Cooler chuckled as he eyed the pool table with a critical eye. He spotted his shot and flipped his head back to shake his thick brown hair away from his eyes. The speakers nearby blared out a loud Charlie Daniels' song about the devil and betrayal. He leaned down and lined up his shot carefully. The smoky biker bar was mostly abandoned. The only people now present were the late night crowd, hard drinkers who had faced the cold storm and weren't here for socializing. However that didn't prevent the young woman who stood quietly next to the pool table from attracting their full, if slightly muddled, attention.

Anne Arbor, Black Hand commander for the city, was dressed in her usual black bodysuit and heavy, black leather trench coat. Her straight black hair hung down her back to between her shoulderblades. Her face looked annoyed. Her almond shaped green eyes were narrowed slightly as she watched Cooler play. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest. Despite her slim form the men in the bar could sense a vague feeling of danger emanating from her. Cooler made his shot, the twirling cue ball clacking against the ten ball and sending it rolling into the nearby pocket.

"I still think you're overreacting," said Cooler with a shrug as he slowly circled the table. "She seems to be working out fine, better then I expected even. Did you see how easily she snatched Eric? It was like child's play for her."

"I didn't question her abilities," said Anne quietly, "I questioned her nature."

"What has that got to do with anything," asked Cooler as he leaned down to eye the table critically. "It's not like she's working for the Girl Scouts here. She got the first part of the job done. The second part will probably be just as easy for her. Why should I worry about what happened in the past?"

"Because we don't really know what happened," snapped Anne. "I lost a few good men, and she was involved somehow. It might have been a few years ago, but people don't change. She's wild and untrustworthy. You speak of her making it seem like child's play? That's because to her it is play. Death and murder are but more fun baubles for her to toy with." Anne's face grew darker as she spoke, a trace of actual anger slipping into it. "I wouldn't allow her any sort of freedom in any operation."

"Baubles?" Cooler looked up at her with a smirk. "Ol' Flint really sent you to all the best schools, didn't he?" Anne's face darkened a bit more. Cooler chuckled, knowing how prim and strait-laced Anne got about her relationship with her sire. "Anyway, I know not to trust Blue totally, I knew I'd need someone I could trust. Someone with honor. So Roulda is watching her, and he's nothing if not loyal."

"Roulda was loyal to his sire first, then the Sabbat," muttered Anne. "I sometimes suspect he was only loyal to the latter because of the former. And speaking of your arrangements to watch and house her, Detroit was a bad idea. I don't approve of you slipping back and forth across the river. It's too dangerous a risk for you to take. At the very least let some of my Agents-"

"Anne," sighed Cooler as he started to take another shot, "it almost sounds as though you're worried about me." Anne grew silent, her pouting lips pressing together as she drew back slightly. Cooler smirked as he took his shot, another ball rolled into a pocket. "I can control her, don't worry about that. And I can look after myself too, I've been doing that for years."

"At least let me get some men together, in case she tries something, just a contingency plan."

"A contingency plan?" Cooler leaned on his pool cue and looked at her. Anne nodded quickly, if slightly nervously. "This contingency plan wouldn't possibly involve killing the hell out of her?"

"Only if-"

"Listen to me carefully girl," snarled Cooler softly. Anne fell silent again, her wide green eyes looking obediently at him. "I don't mind you having an opinion of your own. I don't mind that you seek to warn me of dangers you foresee. But the minute you start to question my decisions you become a bigger risk then I believe Blue ever could be. Do you understand?"

"Sir." Anne stiffly bowed her head to him, then spun on her heel and marched out. Cooler shook his head, wondering just how bad Anne thought this could be. Sure she'd worked with Blue before, but that didn't necessarily mean much. He had Eric, and soon he'd have Detroit. It was all going according to plan, and there wasn't anything, or anybody, that could mess that up now. 

* * *

"This is what you call dirty?"

"What would you call it?"

"Indescribably filthy," Belle hissed.

The three of them were naked and wedged in an active sewer pipe. Their clothes were bagged up in sealed plastic as they crawled through the half frozen muck. There was barely enough room above the sluggishly flowing sewer level to breathe. Luckily none of them needed to.

"I think I have dirt in places dirt isn't supposed to be," she whined as she pulled herself further along the pipe. Harris shoved his bag of clothes along ahead of him as he scowled in annoyance. Of all the silly whining...

"Would you happen to have a better idea?"

"Why not slip over in a hardtop car?"

"Because they watch the bridges carefully, and they might spot us, and if they did..."

"What about circling around and coming in on foot."

"Run the risk of Lupines, and they still might spot us, and if they did..."

"How about swimming the river?"

"They keep submerged watchers who might spot us, and if they did..."

"Yeah, I get it already," she hissed as she slogged through the muck. Harris muttered, he was annoyed too. If he had been going it alone he probably would have slipped over some other way. Alone he could have done it, alone he could have fleshcrafted his face and just been another Sabbat. Now he had to use the less glamorous option. He hoped his bag was keeping his suit clean.

"It could be worse," Doc said cheerfully. 

"How," sighed Belle as she picked some unidentified wiggling object out of her hair.

"You could be ugly." Belle stopped crawling and glanced over her bare shoulder at Doc. He grinned at her and waggled his thin eyebrows a few times as he looked at her bare backside.

"Don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't dream of it darling."

Harris reached the access he was looking for and pulled himself up the narrow passage. Since neither Belle or Doc could see him he allowed himself the luxury of lengthening his arm and fingers in order to reach the handle more easily. He had figured it best not to inform his comrades that he was Tzimisce. They'd probably take it the wrong way. After all, almost no Tzimisce ever left the Sabbat. And most of them eventually defected back. He still wasn't sure himself about his new 'friends' most of the time. But going back to the Sabbat would mean facing the charges of murdering his own sire, and he knew well what his chances would be at that court. The Sabbat weren't known for half measures on discipline.

Harris shoved the hatch open and levered himself up into the broken down gas station. Dim light filtered through the shattered glass of the windows. A stiff chill breeze whistled softly through the dusty rooms. A few rats squeaked and scurried away in surprise at his entrance. He did a quick check to ensure that there were no squatters in the building, then he proceeded back to the bathroom and began to wash himself off in the slightly rusty and freezing water. Belle and Doc walked in to find him already heavily lathered.

"You brought soap," Belle asked in surprise as brownish goo dripped off her tangled hair. 

"And shampoo, didn't you?" He glanced up as he continued to wash. He tried not to grin too much, why did the first timers never think to bring cleaning supplies?

"No"

"Then you better use mine." After he was more or less clean Harris dried himself on the towel he had brought and pulled on his clothes. Doc soon joined him and also began dressing. Harris noted with amusement that though Doc hadn't brought soap or towel, he had remembered his cigarettes. Doc lit one and took a slow puff as he began loading his pistols.

"1880," asked Harris in mild surprise as he eyed them.

"Eh?"

"Those are single action Colt Peacemakers. Nickel plated, and engraved. Their style marks them as being made in, or exacting replicas of guns made in or around, 1880."

"I take it you know your firearms."

"In my line of business it pays to know about what's pointing at you."

"A wise truth to appreciate," nodded Doc as he snapped the now full cylinders closed. He quickly slipped the guns into his gunbelt and closed his black duster up around himself to hide them. Belle came out of the bathroom, she had dressed herself inside, attempting to preserve some modesty. Not that after seeing her coated in sewer gunk Harris was particularly thinking along those lines. She was still damp but appeared ready to go. It was only as the trio walked out of the station that Harris realized Doc had never answered his question. 

* * *

Blue set down the vial of acid. Eric's eyes rolled up into his head as he sighed in relief.

"You are very stubborn."

"I know what will happen to me if I talk." Eric realized how tired and worn his voice sounded. He was getting weaker and weaker. The tortures more and more inventive. The only thought keeping him alive was the knowledge that someone would have to come for him. His prince, his sire, his lord would not abandon him. Blue grinned at him as she brushed some of his hair away from his face with her soft, delicate fingers.

"You could always join the Sabbat," she offered with a shrug. Eric laughed hoarsely. She grinned, her flashing blues eyes also twinkling in amusement. Eric tried to keep focused, not lose himself in those deep orbs of sapphire. "I agree," said Blue with a small laugh, "they are not the best choice. But better then living in pain till you die." She reached into her bag again, she batted her eyes at him and asked innocently, "are you familiar with thumbscrews?" Eric groaned. "I see you are," she laughed softly as she pulled out the metal clamps for his fingers. She smirked as his eyes widened in worry. "Aw, don't fret so much, this is just the preliminary round."

"Preliminary?"

"Yes, the true fun starts once I've almost drained you of blood. You'd be surprised what hunger will do to a man." Blue smiled as she pulled out the screws and set them next to the clamps. Eric swallowed nervously. Blue however didn't put them on him, she instead stood up and reached out to grab her coat. Eric sighed in relief. Blue turned to look at a looming mass that lurked in the back corner of the dusty room. "Roulda! I am going out for a bite," she leaned in towards Eric and grinned maliciously, "I'm a bit parched. Keep hurting and bleeding him till I get back."

"You shouldn't go. Cooler gave explicit orders," rumbled the massive figure uneasily. "He would not be pleased."

"But why does he need to know," asked Blue with an easy grin as she slid on her small leather jacket. "We had this argument about moving him too, didn't we?" Roulda nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. Blue pulled on her blue gloves as she looked back at him. Eric saw the towering brute seem to soften as he looked back into those bright blue orbs. "It will be better this way," she whispered, "better for Cooler, and better for Blue. So you'll do it?"

"Yes mistress." Blue lightly kissed Eric as she turned and walked up the stairs. His eyes swam again with fear as the dark mass advanced from the corner and reached out for him. Even as he began to scream anew in pain he heard her last words gently whispered as she walked from the room.

"Be good now."


	4. Chapter Three: With Friends Like These

Greetings o soon to be dictated to person. As I am ever a bit of a nutjob when it comes to my titles I feel obligated to mention something when it comes to this chapter (as I'm particularly proud of this chapter name) If you'd read 'Of Monsters And Men' you would know that Harris and Marv are friends and Marv actually sort of aided Harris in finding his own personal freedom. (Does this make Marv a crusading wise man rather then a mean drunk? You be the judge) Just mentioning this so his appearance doesn't seem *too* arbritary. Thus the title ties in with Harris & Marv, Marv & The Anarchs, The Anarchs & Harris, Harris & The Sabbat, The Sabbat & Blue, and Blue & Harris. (Wow, does Thor spend a little too much time on titles?) In any case, now that that's out of the way, read on!

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Chapter Three: With Friends Like These... 

Marv sat in Gurdy's. The massive figure was draped in a ratty trench coat, his scarred face was intently watching the stage. The bar just seemed different somehow, he would have asked Gurdy about it, but couldn't find him. He wasn't sure when all of the flashing lights had been installed, or when they had redone the western theme into the techno one. But Marv was willing to try new things. Gurdy had also apparently brought in a new type of entertainment for the night, and Marv was enjoying it. He clutched a small dark bottle with one gloved hand as he watched the dancer strip on the stage. He grinned as the sweet young thing actually bothered to smile in his general direction. A figure stepped into his path. Marv glanced up at Nelson and Sam, two of the anarchs of the neighborhood. Both large men scowled down at him.

"Hey Sam, how's the arm?" Sam scowled and took a step back from the fearsome bruiser. He unconsciously shifted so that the arm that Marv had broken a month or so ago was as far from the brute as was possible. Nelson frowned at Sam's cowardice. He cracked his knuckles with a scowl and leaned in. He poked Marv in the chest a few times.

"Why weren't you at the meeting asshole?" Marv looked down at the finger poking him in the chest, then back up at Nelson. Slowly the anarch stopped poking him and stepped back. Marv blinked and scratched his head.

"What meeting?"

"The one Belle called."

"Oh, sorry, was that tonight?"

"It was called tonight to be held tonight! How the fuck couldn't you have managed to make it?"

"Oh..."

"Well?"

"I forgot, gotta concentrate on that," he muttered quietly. Marv shifted in his seat to again get a clear view of the dancer. Nelson muttered and pointed at Marv in annoyance. Sam reached over and gripped Nelson's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it man, this asshole ain't worth shit," growled Sam. Nelson shook his head, refusing to let it go. 

"Hey," he poked Marv again, "we were asked to scour the 'hoods for some sign of Eric." Marv watched the dancer, she was cute. "He's been kidnapped," Nelson snorted in rage as Marv continued to ignore him. "We need everyone on the streets looking for him."

"Bummer." Marv took a swig of the bottle. He smacked his lips in appreciation. It was a lucky thing he had brought his own supply. For some reason the bartender hadn't known about Gurdy's special blood/alcohol brew. Good thing he had brought his own flask...he wondered where he'd gotten it. He watched as the dancer twirled around on stage. 

"What the hell is your fucking problem," hissed Nelson, specks of spittle bouncing off his thick lips. Sam muttered something about useless assholes under his breath. Marv's eyes blinked and he nodded his head a few times.

"Sorry, gotta concentrate. I heard ya, Eric, Sabbat, got it. If the dweeb comes in here I'll tell ya."

"Look you idiot, either you start looking or we kick your ass!" One more poke to his chest. Marv blinked, he'd already agreed, what the hell was this guy's problem? Marv turned to look Nelson dead in the eye, Nelson swallowed as he caught a flash of the wild terror lurking below Marv's semi-pleasant attitude.

"Wrong, either you buzz off, or there'll be two less guys ta go looking." Nelson and Sam nearly tripped over themselves to flee. "Buncha pansies," Marv muttered to himself as he leaned back in his chair and took a swig of the bottle again. The dancer swirled over near him, she swayed and looked at him expectantly. He nodded and reached into his pocket to pull out some cash. He pulled out a set of keys instead. Marv looked at them curiously as the dancer spit in annoyance and headed off to another table. Marv looked down at the pieces of metal in his hand. "Where'd I get these keys? For the life of me I can't remember." 

* * *

Blue sauntered down the narrow back alley, behind her she heard the catcalls and whistles of the three Sabbat goons she had picked out in the club. It had been so easy to spot them. Each had worn something purple as though it were really some secret method of identifying themselves. They hadn't done anything to their faces, looking far to pale and feral amongst the kine. They had all been playing at being invincible warriors of the night. It made her want to laugh. The Sabbat almost always made her laugh. It had also been so simple to lure them out here. A few hurried glances, a few smiles, a few glimpses of skin. She slowly ran her hands down her back and over the smooth curves of her rear, pulling the tight satin even tauter over her flesh. She smiled as she heard them clomp down the alley after her.

"Hey baby, after a show like that ya can't just run off."

"Oh good, cause I'm so hungry for you."

"That's great, cause I'm ready ta make your dreams come true." The voice was the loud and self-assured voice of the leader of the group. He had been the one most interested in her, she could almost taste his desire. It was sweet, but not as sweet as what else he offered her.

"Really?" asked Blue, she turned and placed one delicate finger on her pouting red lips as she batted her eyes. "So what should I do for three big strong men like you?" The Sabbat chuckled as they moved in around her. She watched them come, a long lock of her blonde hair falling across her face, her eyes gleaming in the darkness of the alley. Their teeth flashed as they puffed out their chests. Confident, sure, strong, they knew they were the hunters.

"I bet I could think of a couple of things."

"I bet you could." Blue's eyes shined as she watched them with a slow smile on her face. They didn't know what the hunt even was. The leader grinned as he walked up in front of her. Another circled off to her side. The last hung back. "But, you better think fast."

"Why," asked the leader as he leaned in towards her, "you hot to trot honey?" She continued to smile shyly, her left hand reached up to brush the hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"In a manner of speaking." She lifted her other slender arm, her finger curled as she beckoned him to her. He grinned and reached out his hand for her again. She smiled and reached up to grip his wrist, she slowly pulled his arm in towards her chest. All three of them had their eyes glued to her hand and chest. Her left hand, now forgotten, finished pushing her hair back and then slipped behind her neck. Delicate fingers gripping the hilt of the knife that was strapped there, hidden under her thick hair. 

With a slight flick of her wrist she sent it plunging into the eye of the goon standing next to her. He howled and dropped to the ground. She twisted the first goon's wrist and pulled him in towards her, at the same instant lashing her foot up to snap out under his chin. The sharp crack of his neck reverberated off the walls of the back alley. As he collapsed she spun in a tight circle and caught him across the side of the head with the metal heel of her shoe. There was a crunch as he was tossed to the ground.

"Fuck this!" His eyes wide with fear the last goon turned and ran for it. Blue calmly pulled out a second knife from under her jacket and sliced her finger tip with it. Just as the slimebag reached the end of the alley and dove for cover the knife slammed into the back of his head, killing him instantly. Blue shook her head in amusement of his pathetic flight. Some brave hunter he had been. She heard the low groan of the leader and glanced at him. Blue reached down and grabbed his shirt, she easily pulled him up so that his scared eyes were locked with her flashing bright blue stare.

"Be good for Blue now," she whispered as her fangs lengthened. "Cause I'm so hungry for you, baby." His scream was sweet. Almost as sweet as his blood. 

* * *

Harris knocked on the door again. Belle and Doc stood a few feet behind him, their arms crossed and skeptical looks on their faces. Cars hissed by on the street as Harris again knocked on the door to the small office. There was no sign announcing what business used the office, the windows were taped up to prevent anyone from simply peeking in. Harris growled in annoyance as he kicked the door.

"You are sure this is the address, right?" Harris frowned and glanced over his shoulder slowly to look at Doc. The anarch grinned at him and shrugged. "Just making an observation. Seems to me he should have answered the door by now." Harris' eye narrowed as he continued to frown. Doc shook his head and glanced back out into the street. "Just saying was all." Harris turned back to look at the silent door. His fists clenched in annoyance. He reached up and knocked, then waited, then knocked, then waited, then knocked...

"What if we went around and tried the back," offered Belle. She too received a slow glance and a deep frown. She shoved her hands on her hips and glared back. "Look, we've been standing around this stinking street for almost a half hour. All because you may or may not have a friend who may or may not be able to help us. All I'm thinking is we should try to speed things up. The less time we spend in Windsor, the better!"

"I know that," sighed Harris as he turned fully around to talk to her. "But it would be damn silly of us to try to scour all the possible places she could be holed up by ourselves. I just need to get a little update on how things are going in some of the neighborhoods. It will really help, trust me. This is the place to get that information, and this is the way to talk to the owner. Just trust me, I know what I'm doing." Belle nodded a little and returned to waiting. Harris knocked again. Suddenly he was bathed in the bright gleam of some headlights. He spun around and raised his arm to shade his eyes as he looked at the truck that had just pulled up onto the sidewalk and angled towards them. Its brakes squealed as it slammed to a stop.

"What the hell," said Belle in surprise as she stepped back a few feet. Harris groaned as the doors of the truck swung open and disgorged five figures. If they weren't Sabbat he was a nun. Doc grinned, Belle slowly slipped one hand behind her back.

"Let me do the talking," Harris said as he turned towards the approaching Sabbat. "And whatever you do, don't do anything unless I tell you to. No matter what happens. Or else we could all be dead." 

"But," said Belle.

"No matter what," snapped Harris as he stepped away from the door and towards the approaching pack. He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't recognize the pack leader. That meant there was a good chance the pack leader didn't know him. The ductus walked ahead of his men and stopped only a few feet from the three anarchs. He grinned at them, his fangs flashing as he eyed them from behind his sunglasses. Harris nodded at him, "hello."

"Hey," replied the ductus stiffly, "So...buddy, watcha guys doing here?"

"Looking to find some info," said Harris with a casual shrug. The ductus cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at his men. The pack had spread out so that all of them had clean shots on any of the anarchs. 

"Really? Who're you with?"

"Nomads, just back in town. I was hoping to catch Zeke for a little update on the situation locally."

"Riiiight," snickered the ductus. The other pack members muttered and pulled out some guns. Two of them even pointed them at Harris. He ignored them. The pack leader glanced Harris up and down, then looked at Belle and Doc. "Funny, but you and the thin geek look a little too well dressed to be nomads." Doc frowned and placed his cigarette in his mouth, freeing his hands. "And that girl seems awfully jumpy," the ductus suddenly twisted to shout at her, "watcha so scared of sweet pea?"

"She's a Malk, I wouldn't press her," Harris cut in. The pack leader glanced at the wide eyed Belle. She stared right back at him. The ductus suddenly grinned and turned back to Harris.

"So you're here for info huh?" The pack leader took a step in closer to Harris and glared down at him. "I'm guessing then you didn't know that Ol' Zeke met final death just last night?" Harris forced himself to remain calm. This might have just become more complicated...

"Oh?" Harris forced himself to act nonchalant as he looked up at the Sabbat. "How'd that happen."

"Forgot his keys, got locked out to greet the sun." Harris' hand was a flash as he pulled out his gun and held it up to the Sabbat's face. Both Belle and Doc tensed as the other Sabbat eyed him dangerously. Harris knew that if he so much as whispered the wrong thing he'd be dead, but he knew what he was doing.

"Who the fuck are you," growled Harris, "and why shouldn't I blow your fucking head off?" Harris could only pray that Doc and Belle followed his orders and didn't do anything. "There's no way that Zeke would ever let himself get locked out. He's as scared of being caught in the sun as a mouse is of an owl." A short silence seemed to stretch into infinity. The Sabbat glared at them with cold menace, Doc and Belle shifted in uncertainty, Harris and the ductus locked eyes. Then the ductus nodded his head and waved his hand at his men, they relaxed their guard.

"Sorry man, just having to be careful. We are at war with the Camarilla, and I've never seen you in my turf before. Relax, Zeke ain't dead, he's just off running some errands." Harris nodded as he stepped back and slipped his gun back under his coat.

"When will he be back?"

"Dunno, probably late."

"Damn."

"Hey, don't sweat it man. Here, I'll give you the skinny on the streets if you want." Harris nodded, he did want. After a few minutes of conversation, including another odd test or two by the ductus, Harris had what he needed. He thanked the pack and their leader as they leaped into their truck and quickly roared off. Belle let out a small breath.

"That was close."

"Not really, that was about standard patrol technique."

"You mean Sabbat treat each other like that all the time?"

"More or less."

"No wonder you all have such bad attitudes." Harris cocked an eyebrow as he glanced over at her. Belle shrugged and smirked back. "So, do you think you know where we should be looking now?"

"I have an idea or two. But I'm not promising anything, trying to think like Blue is a risky game. However, it seems like another old friend of mine may be ab-"

"Whatever, let's just get moving," cut in Belle as she brushed by him. Harris glanced at Doc, who shrugged apologetically before following. Harris muttered as he trailed along in the rear. Belle kicked a piece of litter in annoyance as they walked, it skittered over the frozen sidewalk. "I wish to hell we'd brought a car."

"It would never have fit in the sewers," pointed out Harris as he walked behind her.

"I could arrange for us to get one now..."

"No stealing, we don't want to arouse suspicion."

"Oh c'mon, just look at that sweet red one over..."

"No cars, walking will do just fine."

"But..."

"No cars!" 

* * *

There was a click from above, the front door had been opened. Roulda quickly moved so that he lurked in the open space underneath the stairs. His fists clenched as he watched through the open gaps between the steps. The door into the basement swung open. Roulda's eyes narrowed in preparation. But then he saw the delicate and sensuous white legs that moved gracefully down the dusty steps. He stepped out from under the stairs as Blue returned. Her pale face was slightly flushed from the fresh infusion of blood. Her long hair had been blown into disarray by the wind of the city. She grinned at him as she pulled her blue gloves off.

"Hey big guy, how's our guest?" Roulda turned and nodded his head towards the limp figure hung from the ceiling.

"He is too injured to be much aware. He began to refuse to utilize his blood to heal. Thus I elected to stop any further efforts until I learned how you'd like to deal with this new tactic." Roulda watched her carefully, still trying to come to terms with how he was feeling. It was strange. So much of his life had belonged to the master. When that had been taken from him his life had simply become anger. But now...now there was that fire in her eyes. The way she looked at him. The way she seemed to be so strong, yet so delicate and needful of his help. So vicious, and yet so helplessly childlike.

"Stopped healing?" Blue walked over and looked down at Eric's slack face, she shook her head and grinned. "Such a common and obvious strategy. I had expected more from him." She turned around and started to pull off her coat. "It's not a problem, we'll just slit him open and drain out the blood. This is nothing but a minor delay."

"As you say, so it shall be done," rumbled Roulda as he stepped towards Eric. He was paused when a slim hand reached up and pressed against his chest. He looked down into her flashing blue eyes, they seemed to swirl with mysteries and promises. Smoldering like the bright blue flames of a fire.

"No need to rush things. Let him stew inside his own head and think he's won, it will make snatching the victory from him all the more effective." Roulda nodded slowly, he still looked into her deep azure eyes. She grinned at him, her white teeth flashing. "So, big man. What's your story?" 

"I do not tell stories."

"Aw c'mon, who's it going to hurt." She raised one of her hands and struck a mock serious pose. "I swear I won't tell nobody nothing," she paused and glanced over at Eric, "hey, you keep quiet too, okay?" She smirked as she looked back at Roulda. "See, all secret now, so why not tell Blue?" Her eyes burned into his, she pressed closer again. Roulda shook his head, but was amazed to realize he had started to speak. It was as though she burned through the outer shells of himself, to get to the true him underneath.

"I am Tzimisce. My sire...the master, he was loyal to the Sabbat. I was one of his childer, we were who he trusted to care for him." Blue nodded, apparently eager for him to go on. "For a long time it was just me. The master loved me above all others, and I served him before anything else. Then Harris returned..."

"Harris?" There was a note of surprise to her musical voice as she spoke the word. Blue leaned forward, her eyes seeming to almost glow eagerly in the dim light. "Tell me about Harris."

"He was the master's other childe. He had left to join The Black Hand, to gain glory in the master's name. But he was dishonored, disgraced, forced out of the organization." Roulda felt a stab of anger pass through him. His hands clenched tightly, his eyes burned with fury. "It was he that did it all. He decided the life of a kine...a mortal dog! Was superior to that of the master. He slew him. Destroyed the master, ruined my life, removed my goal" He sank to the dirty floor and sat down, unable to stand while speaking of the horror. She leaned against him, and cooed soft comforts as he shook with repressed anger and loss. "I failed my master," concluded Roulda darkly. "I failed him and now I am nothing. All that is left to me is to serve Cooler and to die." He felt her arm slip around him. Her flesh wasn't cold like a dead thing, it burned with heat. Heat from the fire of her eyes. 

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice soft and silky. "I understand what you went through. But you're no good to me like this. I need you to help me finish this job. I want you to find a new cause Roulda, I want you to find a new master. I want you to be strong again, be strong for me." He turned to look at her, the fire consumed him whole. He knew that he could never love another. He had found his master, he was hers, mind, body, and soul.


	5. Chapter Four: Within A Frozen Blue Mind

I'll get to the abt, bat thing any day now. I've just been distracted with other projects too much to go chasing a spelling error in my opening diatrabe. (And don't think I won't root out more spelling errors in other people's works as a petty type of revenge, mwu-ha-ha) Regarding Blue blood bonding Roulda. I leave that up to your own suppositions. She does seem to have a powerful sway over people, doesn't she? (I liked Tremere's succint description of her attitudes). Also, before anyone questions Anne's actions. I'd suggest you read the "Cost" stories that star her. Trust me, she has her own reasons for doing things as she does.

Regarding Greyflank's excellent points. The ductus thing is perhaps a little quick, but I just wanted to make it clear Harris got an update on Sabbat stuff so whenever he seemed knowledgable there was justification despite his time in Detroit. As far as the Doc 'gun thing'. This was a little throwback to a point in time Doc was going to be one of my major characters, and I was establishing his "secret past". However I soon discovered he was a bit of a two-dimensional character, and thus sorta nabbed up Harris (who almost was scheduled to die soon) and used him as one of my primary cast members. After all, he has a far more interesting personality and problems. Doc was just a butt-kicker. I'll probably work that bit out soon as I get some time and an idea. Thanks for spotting it as extra (and pointless) material. Now (finally?) let's get on to the story. Harris meets some old friends, and remembers why he fled Windsor. And Archbishop Cooler learns why you should never trust a blue-eyed agent of chaos and death...

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Chapter Four: Within A Frozen Blue Mind 

The three continued to walk down the street. Harris knew this neighborhood well, he had often dumped bodies here for the maste...George, his sire. But now George was dead, and Harris was looking to find a body, not hide one. Harris suddenly paused and sniffed the air. There was a tang of blood floating gently on the wind. He sniffed again and turned to follow it down a side street. The other two followed him. Harris could make out the distinct richness of the aroma, the blood was that of a Cainite. So, either he was leading them into the middle of a fight between some Sabbat, or he had been lucky enough to actually catch the scent of a certain uppity Ventrue being tortured by Blue. He hoped it was the latter.

"I do reckon that we seem to be following the lead of someone tracking by smell," commented Doc with a wry grin. "Maybe we should have brought a dog and put it in charge?"

"Hush, let him work," chided Belle as she walked along after him.

They rounded the corner to look into the narrow alley that ran alongside a grocery. The alley had obviously been the sight of a struggle. Three dead bodies were sprawled on the ground. By the looks of them they had all been vampires. Standing around the bodies were a few policemen as well as a squad of Black Hand. Harris immediately knew that the cops were just puppets for the Sabbat, and he had little wish to run into some of his old 'friends' in the Hand. 

Harris quickly took note that the dead had all been bitten in the neck, he then grabbed Belle and Doc and pulled them back around the corner. They had only been in the mouth of the alley for a second. Harris continued to pull them away, he suspected that Hand agents were already keeping an eye on them, thus when Belle tried to ask him a question he silenced her with a hurried wave of his hand. The fact they had been drained told him easily who had done this, he wondered if she had told her employers about her little addiction.

"Rushing off early aren't you?" The voice cut through his thoughts and turned his blood to ice. This was trouble, big trouble, and he didn't need it now. Harris turned around to see the dark shape of Anne Arbor drop lightly off the grocery roof. Her long black hair billowed around her as she dropped. Her black trenchcoat surged open during the drop, revealing the gleam of some of the weapons hidden therein. She landed lightly on the snowy pavement. Her almond shaped green eyes narrowed as she watched them. Harris cursed, with one shouted word Anne could summon her Hand agents and kill them all. He felt his hands itch, a roar inside him urging him to draw his guns and damn the consequences.

"Anne," greeted Harris cautiously. He concentrated. Forced his hands to relax. She was talking, as long as they were talking he still had a chance.

"Harris." Harris held up his hand to prevent Doc and Belle from attacking. The mere fact that Anne hadn't ordered the Hand agents back in the alley to come kill them was a good sign. Also, Harris remembered how he happened to own Anne his life. He had often wondered what had made her allow him to flee with his life after his assault on his sire. He looked into her green eyes, catching no hint of what she might be thinking. "What are you doing back in Windsor," Anne finally asked, "I thought you betrayed the Sabbat." Harris cringed inwardly, leave it to Anne to look at his fleeing for his life as a betrayal of the ideology of the Sabbat.

"I just found it in my interests to start living on the other side of the river."

"So why sneak in with a pair of anarch spies?"

"Blue."

"Ah." Harris hoped the truth would help. Anne had known how involved he had gotten with Blue during the time the deadly assassin had worked with the Hand. She had chastised him for becoming too swept up in Blue's bloodlust and games of death. At the time he had thought Anne weak, now he simply suspected she had never trusted Blue. And if she hadn't trusted Blue then...then she probably still didn't like working with the Assamite. The skies suddenly opened up, releasing a thick wave of billowing white snow down on the city. Anne and Harris eyed each other through the swirling clouds of flakes. Anne pursed her lips, she glanced over to Doc and then to Belle. "Two anarchs, and a Sabbat defector. Hardly seems like you'd be the sorts to come over the river."

"I find myself doing all sorts of things I never thought I'd do," said Harris.

"I suppose you're also here to try to rescue Eric."

"I don't think I need to answer that one."

"Why shouldn't I just order my men in here to finish you off?"

"Those Sabbat in the alley."

"Yes?"

"Blue was the one who killed them." Anne's eyes narrowed slightly. Harris knew her well enough to know she hated to lose loyal members of the Sabbat. He had at one time considered it weakness. Now he understood why she held on to such beliefs.

"We've had quite a couple unusual deaths lately."

"If they were drained, I'd bet Blue was behind it." He knew he was playing a dangerous game now, but it was the only possible way he saw of walking out of this alley alive. Behind him he heard Doc shift, the dangerous anarch probably more then willing to start blasting rounds into Anne. Harris silently prayed that Doc would hold his hand. Anne was considering his words, weighing the options and decisions. Still it seemed bleak, sure she might try to hunt down Blue in revenge. But where in that equation did sparing his life come into play? Harris grew stiff as he realized the truth. It didn't. He had played, and he had lost, and soon, he would be dead. 

Anne reached up and brushed some of the snow from her coat. Harris noted that the snow in her hair was melting. He guessed she was still bothering to pump blood through her veins to appear human. Anne breathed out a misty cloud as she considered duty and justice in her mind. Harris knew this was why they were in trouble. If there was one thing he knew for sure about Anne, it was that she always obeyed her duty before all other concerns. It had been her devotion that had led to his ousting from the Hand and given him a chance at a new life and a new him. Ironic that now her devotion would destroy the new him it had created. He knew his last thoughts would be of dear Nancy, his love, his muse. Anne closed her eyes, her face grew stern as she made her decision.

"I'll give you two hours, not a minute more. Then me and my men are coming for you. Be out of Windsor by then." Thus for the second time had she handed him his life back. Harris didn't even waste the time to wonder why she had made this choice. He didn't even thank her, he turned and rushed off down the snowy streets, Doc and Belle following closely. Anne forced herself not to watch them run off, best if she didn't know what direction they had gone. She turned and walked back to the murder investigation. The snow glinting and melting in her dark hair. 

* * *

Michael Cooler was sitting outside of the small biker bar when The Marauders pulled up. Their motorcycles rumbling noisily as the pack members dismounted. He stood up from his bench and waved the few men he had been talking with back inside. The twenty odd members of the pack hopped off their eclectic collection of vehicles and quickly rushed up to Cooler. The archbishop glanced down in surprise as the pack's priest ran up and grabbed onto his leather jacket. Her tiny frame shook as she squealed at him.

"The fires of damnation have found our plans and cast them into the oblivion of uncertainty due to the actions of the misbegotten whore whom..." Cooler reached out and shoved his hand into her face. The teenage Malkavian squealed in surprise as he shoved her off him and to the ground.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Blue moved Eric," said Rich Varda, head of the pack, as he approached.

"What?"

"Me and Grunge went by to check in on her, and the place was dead empty."

"What!" 

"We searched the whole damn area," Rich nodded at Grunge, the hairy Gangrel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled, piece of paper. "All that was there was this note," Cooler grabbed the scrap of paper. It offered her respects and left a number where she could be contacted.

"Bitch!"

"Yep."

"Give me a phone!" Cooler held out his hand, The Marauders all glanced at each other in concern. Grunge quickly spun around and grabbed for Lolita, the pack priest hissed in anger as he reached inside her jacket. After a few moments of fumbling struggle a cell phone was dropped into the archbishop's hand. Cooler snarled to himself as he tapped in the number. That bitch had asked for too much money and favors to give him any crap now. A voice picked up on the other line after only half a ring.

"Hello hello."

"Hello," said Cooler, his teeth grinding together in barely restrained anger. Lolita jumped at him, her hand reaching for her phone. Grunge intercepted and tackled her to the ground. There was some scuffling and a series of curses as The Marauders all rushed in to help. This of course only added to the confusion of the brawl. Rich snarled in annoyance and pulled out a knife. Cooler forced himself to concentrate on the phone. "Blue?"

"Speaking."

"This is Cooler, what the hell is going on!"

"I thought it would be safer for my security if your Sabbat didn't know where to find me." 

"What sort of idiocy-"

"Not that I don't trust the Sabbat fully."

"Why not discuss-"

"But I don't."

Cooler moved the phone away from his mouth and took a deep breath as he forced himself to calm down. He muttered a string of curses under his breath and then held the phone back up. Nearby the fight was dying down. Quite a few of the pack were now nursing some nasty wounds.

"Where are you?" His voice was calm, too calm. It seemed to suggest that the only thing keeping anyone alive was the fact he hadn't decided how to kill them yet.

"Don't you think it best that I tell you that once I've broken Eric," asked Blue cheerily.

"No."

"Tisk, tisk." Cooler could almost imagine her shaking her finger at him. His blood boiled behind his eyes, flooding his vision murderously red. Blue's laughter tinkled out of the phone. "It's this lack of trust that leads to-"

"Where the fuck are you!"

"Temper temper Mr. Cooler. Try to live up to your name."

"I'll have to change it to Bluekiller in about three seconds." He felt as though he were about to burst into flames. Around him even The Marauders had gone silent, not wanting to set him off. Blue sighed dramatically, her voice play acting at sounding hurt.

"Calm down, I'll give you directions and have Roulda waiting for you." Cooler cursed under his breath. If that stupid Tzimisce had also turned on him...he ground his teeth in frustration. Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse. "He'll bring you to me so we can talk."

"You had better, or I promise you'll never get out of Detroit alive."

"How do you know I haven't left already and am using a cell phone in my car."

"YOU BITCH!!!!!"

"I'm kidding, relax." She laughed. Cooler lowered the phone and put one of his fists into the brick wall of the bar. The Marauders stepped back from him as he stood there, his eyes gleaming red. They glanced around uneasily, assuring themselves that no kine were nearby to witness the archbishop's slip. He slowly raised the phone back to his ear.

"You sound upset. You aren't going to show up with an army are you?" The mocking note in her voice made Cooler want to start ripping things apart. Instead he forced himself to slow down, to calm his voice. Time for anger when he had his hands on her again.

"No."

"You better not, or no one will be there to show you to me, and I might accidentally finish off our dear friend Eric." She hummed a few bars of Holst's 'Jupiter, The Bringer of Jollity' Cooler stood there fuming. "You should probably relax, a big strong Sabbat like you doesn't need an army to deal with little ol' me."

"How many?"

"No more then four."

"Give me the directions," he growled. She did. He hung up the phone and shoved it into his jacket with a hiss of annoyance. Lolita frowned and glared daggers towards Grunge. Cooler motioned to Rich. "I'm gonna take four of your boys with me to do some business. I want you to go contact Anne Arbor. Tell her she may have been right about Blue and to prepare to move ahead with the contingency plan. She'll know what you mean." Rich nodded, he pointed to four of his men to follow Cooler, then he and the rest rushed off. Cooler turned and headed for his car, his eyes darkened in anger. She had crossed him, and in so doing crossed the Sabbat. He didn't care how good she was, Blue was good and screwed! 

* * *

"You know what I really like about you," Belle hissed into his ear, "is how you bring me to all the nicest places." They pushed through the thick crowds of people, green and purple lights slashing through the teeming crowds in wild and random bursts. Up on stage the lead singer had ordered his girlfriend out from the back and was now having her perform a strip tease for the audience. The swarms of young, sweaty, drunk teenagers pressed in tight. Their bodies slamming and twisting into each other. "I mean this is a really great idea, I just feel so safe being here."

"Yeah," muttered Doc darkly as he trailed after them through the crowd. "And why do I feel like those ladies up there aren't interested in just my dashing good looks?" Harris spared a glance up to the private balcony that protruded from the offices on the second floor. A pair of platinum blondes in skintight silver and black latex bodysuits stood upon it. Their pale eyes stared disconcertingly into the crowd. Carefully watching the trio as they approached the stairs.

"Just relax, I know these people," said Harris, fighting to be heard over the noise. "Porky is a friend, he'll be able to help."

"Why is it I wonder a bit about what friendship means to the Sabbat," muttered Doc darkly.

"You know what else I like about you?" Belle glowered at Harris as she leaned up by his shoulder. "How you explain nothing! What was up with cutting those phone lines on the way in? Why are we even here?"

"Don't worry. I have a plan all worked out. Porky owes me, he'll help and we can get out of here." He shoved apart a pair of necking kids and walked between them. The guy started to protest, until Belle just roughly shouldered him aside as she followed. Her superhuman levels of strength easily sending the skinny kid sprawling.

"You know what I really like about you even more?" Belle again leaned forward as they reached a narrow set of winding iron stairs. Harris started up them, the twisting steps leading up to the balcony. "It's how you always seem to think you know what to do. like you're the only one with the answers."

"Look, just play this quiet and let me do all the talking," sighed Harris, wishing yet again he'd come alone. "Porky can be a little...tense. I know how to handle him."

"Of course you do," snapped Belle as they stepped out onto the balcony. The two Barbi dolls in latex stepped between them and the door. The shorter of the pair smiled innocently at them. The taller one frowned, her gaze fixed on Harris. Doc lit up yet another cigarette, still leaving Harris wondering where he got them all. Belle sneered at the two women and pulled back her jacket to plainly reveal the guns tucked into her waistband. Harris only smiled at the action, it was just the sort of thing a Sabbat would do if pissed. Strange how the anarchs were convinced they were truly so different.

"Hello Billie, Ellen. How are my favorite ladies tonight?" Ellen continued to scowl at him, her features darkening as she somehow became more angry. Billie just waved cheerily at him and smiled again. "I'm here to see Porky, is he in?"

"What the bloody hell are you doing here Harris," snapped Ellen in her thick English accent. She peered at Doc and Belle and then back to him. "Last I heard you had ruddy well gone and hopped across the river. What's the deal?"

"Who says there's a deal? What makes you so sure I went across for good?" Harris shrugged and brushed at some of his hair that had fallen across his face. As he did he made sure to briefly flash the small black tattoo on the inside of his hand. The sign of the Black Hand. Ellen seemed to be taken aback by the subtle reminder of who he had once, and still might, be. Harris preferred to forget about it, but knew it was the only way he was going to get in to talk to Porky. "What say you just ask him if I can come in, I'm sure he remembers what he owes me."

Ellen frowned but turned and swung open the office doors. She disappeared into the gloom of the room beyond, the door seeming to almost be sucked closed again as she passed through it. Billie remained standing nearby. Her eyes watching Harris closely, a small smile on her silver painted lips. Belle shifted impatiently, her eyes darting out over the crowded and teeming dance floor below.

"He'll see you," Ellen's voice was clipped and annoyed as she swung open the door and motioned them inside. Harris smirked slightly and casually walked into the darkened office. Black plastic was stretched across the large windows of the room, allowing no light in. Belle and Doc followed slower, their motions tense as they entered the thick and unnatural shadows of the room. "Sire, he is here."

"Thank you Ellen, you and Billie wait by the door." The voice seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Instead just seeming to hiss forth from every shadow of the room at once. Billie and Ellen took up their places. Their latex suits making them appear strange in the deep darkness of the room. The silver sections shining like ghostly afterimages, the black seeming to just fade away into nothingness. "So Harris, to what do I owe this...honor?"

"Hello Porky." Harris strolled forward and stopped in the middle of the room. He turned and glanced at one of the patches of darkness to his right. "I was wondering if you wanted to repay me for that business with the Swede."

"Tch, tch, tch. I should know better then to try with you," sighed the voice. The darkness seemed to melt away, fading back into pools and shadows that seemed far more natural then what had been there but moments before. The retreating darkness also revealed the shape sitting upon the black leather couch. As always, totally naked, Porky lived up to his nickname quite handily. His bloated form, though only standing five and a half feet tall, was just as wide. His head somewhat resembled a melting scoop of vanilla creme. Rolling mounds of neck flab leading up to a pinched face and narrow, pointy skull. Two beady eyes that seemed to glint with an inner reddish light narrowed as Porky's blubbery lips creaked open into a limp smile. "You always seem to know where I am."

"There are more ways to find someone then just sight," replied Harris with a tight grin. "Let's keep this quick, Porky. I hear Blue's back in town, I need to find her."

"Blue? Are you still singing that old tune?" Porky's tiny eyes performed a quick little shivering jig as they danced over Belle and Doc. A purplish tongue caked in sores slithered out of his mouth and ran across his uneven yellow teeth. "I'll admit that the chick ya git there ain't squat next to Blue... Not saying maybe I wouldn't want to try and get with her if I could. But...tch, you should just learn to accept that some things are just out of even your reach."

"Porky..."

"Speaking of reach." Porky's gaze snapped back to Harris. "Don't you think you've overstepped yours? A cute cover story, telling Ellen that you're still one of us. But do you really think I'd believe Anne would have had George killed just to make a better cover story?" Harris cursed inwardly as he heard the shifting of leather bodysuits behind him. Ellen and Billie, primed and ready to attack. "I'm sure you won't mind if I just call this little matter in to Knight Bishop St. Johns. Tch, tch, tch, I'm sure he'd love to know you're back in town."

"I don't need you doing something stupid and blowing my cover." He glared at Porky. "I don't think Anne appreciates you questioning her plans. Don't interfere Porky, just give me the information."

"What the hell are you talking about," snapped Ellen. "You really don't expect us to buy this bullshit!"

"Sure I do," said Harris with a nasty grin. "You don't think a deep cover agent like me would be known to everyone. I don't need you letting Anne know that I had to get help, it'd mess with my credentials.." He glanced back at Porky. "I just really need that information, now. Do it quick and I might even put in a good word for you with Anne."

"I don't think so," sneered Porky as he sat up and reached for the phone that rested on the table next to him. "I know you're just trying to screw me over Harris. I know it!" He picked up the phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons. Harris glanced over at Doc, with a slight flick of his eyes he motioned down to the anarch's waist and then glanced at Ellen and Billie. Doc grinned as he placed his cigarette in his mouth, freeing his hands. "What the fuck? The line's dead?"

Harris spun around and drew out the pair of .45's he kept under his coat. The two guns snapping into his hands with blinding speed. In almost the same instant Doc drew his Colts, the two revolvers spinning up to the ready. Billie and Ellen both snarled in surprise. Ellen raised her gun, but was far too slow, and was thrown back as bullets slammed into her chest. Billie reacted a little quicker. Tossing herself to the side as she leapt for the cover of the doorway. However Doc's eyes glinted as his arm moved in a blur to track her movements. There was a sharp crack of a gunshot, and Billie's neck exploded in a fountain of blood. Her body crashed into the door, knocking it open and spilling her out into the club. Her body collapsing on the balcony before the startled gazes of a crowded room of club patrons.

Even as the screams started Harris spun around and pointed his guns at Porky. The pudgy figure gawked in surprise, the phone dropping from his now nerveless fingers to clatter upon the grimy floor. Belle finally seemed to catch up as she drew out her own revolvers. Her eyes wide with shock as she glanced at the downed Ellen and then over to Porky.

"What the fuck, Harris? What are you doing?"

"He was planning on turning me in the instant we stepped into the place," snapped Harris as he walked over and shoved the pistol up against Porky's pallid and splotchy face. "The phone cutting bought us time, but he has to have men ready. Doc, secure the door. Belle, make sure Ellen's down."

"You really fucked things up this time, Harris!" Porky's eyes narrowed as he glared around the gun to stare at Harris' face. Harris only grinned as he heard the door slam shut and a steel bolt slide into place. There was a curse from Belle as she walked over and pumped three more rounds into Ellen's body. Porky however, only smirked. "You really made a mistake coming back into Windsor. There's a lot of 'old friends' who've just been dying to see you again."

"I don't have time to waste." Harris cocked back the hammer of the gun, his gray eyes calm and unemotional. "I'm pretty sure though that you can guess what I'm capable of. Or do you think I've gone soft?" Porky's grin slipped away, he shifted nervously. Outside could be heard more shouts and screams from the club. But also Harris could hear the sounds of feet pounding up a metal walkway. "You have exactly three seconds, Porky. Where can I find Blue?"

"She's been moving around, messing with Cooler..." Harris suddenly lowered the gun, his hand reaching towards Porky's face. Porky squealed like a pig as he jerked his head away from Harris' touch. "But! But! Some of my boys thought they saw her heading into her old stomping grounds! Down in The Projects! That's where she'll be!"

"Thanks Porky." Harris withdrew his hand, secretly relived he hadn't had to use that threat. He just wasn't that man anymore.

"We have problems!" Harris looked up at Belle's cry. A tendril of shadowy darkness had snaked in under the door. It quickly lashed up and tore the bolt free. In the next instant the metal door slammed open to reveal Billie and the rest of Porky's pack.

"Your ass is mine!" Billie howled the words as she sprang into the room, dark shadows twisting about her body, a short curved sword gripped in her hand. The rest of the pack swarmed in after her, raising a wild array of firearms as they started to shoot at anything inside the room that was moving. Doc moved in a blur as he shot across the room and knocked Belle out of the way of a spray of fire from an Uzi. He quickly drew out his own pistol and slapped his hand across the back, fanning the hammer as he released a quick spray of bullets into the shocked pack member.

"Out the window! Move it!" Harris shouted the words even as he fired his .45 at the charging Billie. The slim slip of a girl accepted the bullets without reaction. Harris quickly dove to the side as she lurched forward and slashed down with her sword. The blade gouging a deep cut into the hardwood floor as it struck with superhuman power. Harris quickly spun back towards her and grabbed at her sword wrist. At the same moment his foot spun out and hit hard in the back of her knee. Her leg buckled as she dropped to her knees, the reflexive attempt to halt her fall caused her hand to release her weapon.

Harris snatched the blade from her grasp and quickly used it to slash at some of the shadowy tentacles that seemed to swarm about her body. His left hand dropped down to grab her long blonde hair and jerk her head downward. Her surprised face met his right knee as it rose up and crunched into her features. Billie was tossed back to the ground, her once delicate face now splattered in blood. A black blur suddenly blitzed past Harris, Doc carrying a angry Belle. She fired over his shoulder as he leapt into the air and smashed through one of the large bay windows, the plastic splitting apart as the glass shattered. The two anarchs dropped out of sight.

Harris tossed Billie's sword at the oncoming pack as he too spun to head for the window. He called upon his blood, and the ancient skills of Celerity. His senses seemed to warp as everything around him slowed down. Though in truth he was simply moving so much faster. His feet pounded on the floor as he ran for his life. The gaping maw of the window loomed before him, the light seeping through it symbolizing the escape from the darkness of the office. He heard Billie shouting angrily. Heard Porky squeal in outrage. Then he heard the sharp report of a magnum. 

The heavy slug slammed into his head even as he sprang onto the windowsill. His world tilted wildly as he tottered forward and toppled into the night.

And then there was only the darkness. 


	6. Intermezzo: Blue Fires That Burned The P...

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit

Intermezzo: Blue Fires That Burned The Past 

The darkness was blasted aside by a wave of bright orange light. The fire crackled warmly as he picked up another branch and tossed it into the flames. The strong sea breeze whipped the flames higher, causing the fire to leap and dance. The wood cracked and popped loudly as he watched them burn. Deep in the back of his head he felt the beast struggling and screaming, terrified by the nearness of the conflagration. He sneered at the feeling as he chose to ignore it. Let the thing suffer, it was a weak part of him, useless.

He turned at the sound of her laughter. She came gliding out of the waves like a goddess. The surf crashed among the rocks as she pulled herself out of the ocean. The water cascaded down her naked skin, the liquid flowing over her soft, marble white curves. Her long blonde hair was plastered to her face, clinging in damp curls around her delicate features. From behind those wet strands of gold he could see her eyes, despite the darkness. The two orbs burned like bright pinpoints of blue crystal. Marble skin, gold hair, crystal eyes...it was as though she were a treasure, or a priceless work of art. Her lips parted in a feral gleam, her white teeth flashing. She motioned to the fire.

"Isn't that a bit conspicuous?"

"True Blue, always stating the obvious when it is unimportant. I thought you would need to dry off," he grumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

It always interested him how she made him feel. How she made him act different around her. His calm control and professional precision cast aside by the flash of her eyes. He remembered when he had spoken to her of one of his few true loves. He had played some of his music for her. She had smiled and danced to it. He and she had spent one entire night listening to Holst's masterwork 'The Planets', over and over. She had said to hear the universe described thus, made it all make sense.

But it hadn't made sense to Harris. He knew that others, like Falco, had become enamored by her ethereal beauty and zest for passion and life. But he had always been beyond that. Just a deadly killer, good at what he did. But the look in her eyes as she'd described the music to him. The way she had hummed the tune of Venus, the Bringer of Peace, had started a strange reaction in his gut. Not love, but, perhaps lust? He didn't care for it, and had been gruff with her ever since.

"Besides, when did flashy displays begin to bother you," he snapped.

"And here I thought enough had been displayed for you already..." She spun around slightly, "so have you seen enough?" She smirked as he quickly turned away from her. His eyes still burning with the alluring image of her bare skin glistening in the firelight.

"I was told to watch you," he began. But he could already feel the assured smile spreading across her perfect face, and so he stopped. He scowled as he forced himself to stand tall. He was no schoolboy to be swept away by a few glimpses of flesh and a seductive face. He was a lieutenant of the Black Hand. He was a killer and assassin feared by the predators of the night. He glanced up at her as she entered the ring of firelight. He felt his resolve weaken. He shifted away from her again as he pointed. "Your clothing and gear are there."

"Why thank you," she whispered softly. He heard the gentle whisper of silken cloth against more silken skin. He waited and focused his thoughts. Finally he turned around to her. She wore her blue dress again. Only it wasn't blue any longer. There was a wild series of splotches and marks that still stained it. The dried remains of blood that had splattered her as she'd torn apart the bishop. She reached down and traced one of the patterns. Her elegant fingers curving along the smear of blood as she followed it up along the smooth curving underside of her breast. He followed the finger higher as it slipped over the edge of the dress, dancing along the swelling and delectable mounds that seemed to almost spill forth again as they strained against the tight material. Finally her finger reached her mouth. Pouting red lips parting slightly as she traced along their soft outer edges. "What are you thinking," she whispered with a suggestive smirk. "Go on and tell Blue."

"Huh?" Harris cursed as he shook his head and tried to clear it of the strange cobwebs that were clogging his thoughts. "I was just thinking you made a bit of a mess," he sneered. "We were supposed to deal with the bishop, he had become unstable. But we weren't supposed to enjoy it!"

"Anything worth doing is worth enjoying," she softly said as she walked towards him. The orange light of the fire was reflected in her bright eyes. But the firelight was such a pale and meaningless thing to the fire that already burned in her eyes. "And killing..." Blue grinned as she paused in front of him, "is one of the two things that I always enjoy."

"We should get moving again," stammered Harris. Knowing quite well what her second passion was. His own eyes were locked on hers. He felt her hands drift up and lightly brush against his strong jaw. Silken caresses as she massaged his bald skull, her fingers dancing against some of the swirling black tattoos along his temples. It felt like his mind was on fire, but not a painful fire. Simply a burning hot...passion! "We...should really...Falco will be...expecting."

"Poor Falco," she breathed softly in his ear. Her body pressing against him as she stood on her tiptoes to rest her cheek against his own. "I knew the first time I saw him what he thought about me." Her scent seemed to fill Harris' senses. A wild and deadly aroma that swam like fire through his very being. The heat of her hands was unbearable, they pressed against cold flesh and seemed to demand that it feel again. "But I...I only saw you."

"Me?"

"You." She pulled back her face slightly. Her deep blue eyes looking up demurely from under the damp golden curls of her hair. Her lips broke into a shy grin as she watched him carefully. "You were so quiet. So reserved. But I could see something within you. I liked the way you looked at me, not like the others. You looked at me with a mixture of fear and desire. It called to me...it...it made me burn for you."

She burned? She too felt the fire? He looked into her eyes and knew it to be true. True Blue. His True Blue. The salty wind whipped around them. The logs crackled and split in the heat of the roaring conflagration. The branches blackening and smoking away into nothingness. But that heat was nothing...nothing to the heat of their fire! She pressed against him, her eyes wild and burning things. Her pale and soft skin was his, she was his, always. His True Blue. 

"Being good yet?"

Her voice was a gasp of a whisper. Her eyes scorched him and burnt away any doubts about this one moment. This one, perfect, moment. Harris lowered his head. His lips met her own. The fire swept over him, burning through his mind and wiping it clean of any concern but to feel this way again. 

She was his. 

* * *

"What was that?" Blue glanced over her shoulder as she stood on the dock. Her tight silk dress hugged her tightly, clung to her skin in a way Harris wished he could again. A blue scarf was casually tossed over one shoulder, it danced lightly in the wind. Her golden hair danced too, it's wild motions a reflection of her inner emotions. Her uncontrollable nature. Her deadly wildness. Black sunglasses were perched on her delicate and perfectly formed nose. The black shades hiding her eyes from view, concealing the windows to her soul and the fire within her.

"It's over, Blue." Falco's face was grim, his dark trench coat pulled in about him tightly. He had argued against this, he hadn't wanted to let her go. But it had been ordered. He glanced up, his boyishly innocent face trying to smile reassuringly. "Anne gave the order just an hour ago. You aren't wanted in Windsor anymore. If you stay the Sabbat will consider you a free agent, and act appropriately."

"Appropriately?" Harris swore he could see the pulse of burning blue orbs flare up even behind the dark sunglasses. Blue's voice remained calm and even. Her rich, silken lips curved upward into a smile. "Would you be the one, Falco? Would you act appropriately?"

"Blue..." Harris felt the word wrench out of his gut as he spoke it. He didn't want to see her go either. He wasn't sure why. Sure she was effective. Sure he liked having her help. But she was so wild, so dangerous, so...the fire. Like a fire she could burn too hot, too fast, too deadly. They had to have distance from her. He understood all of this. Why then was it so difficult? "You should just go."

"Ah." Blue glanced at him. Her red lips seeming to twitch slightly as she looked at him. Small lines of worry appeared on her usually flawless face. "So, am I not True enough for you either? You too want me to leave."

"It isn't anyone, Blue," cut in Falco. The wind hissed through his red hair as he stepped towards her. His wild red locks looking like a small fire grew within him. But Falco's flame was an innocent and small thing. He couldn't possibly understand the cold fires of Blue. Not like I can, thought Harris slowly, unsure why he was so certain of the thought. Falco reached out for her, his face pleading. "I don't want to be without you. You mean too much. Let me come with you..."

"Come with me?" Blue's arms fell to her sides as she looked down at his hand. Her face returned to its alabaster perfection. Her eyes unreadable behind their dark coverings. The wind whipped and raged around her and him. His red hair crackling. Her golden hair fluttering around the dark shades that hid her own fire. From where he stood behind Falco, Harris could smell her. Her scent, so wild, so deadly. She was the flame. Blue sighed and a small smile lit up on her features as she looked up. "Do you trust me, Falco?"

"Of course." Falco's words were breathy and desperate. He looked at her with that same wild passion of wanting that Harris had seen in so many other eyes that had looked at her. In that instant he knew that Falco would never be able to fully be one with her. He worshipped her as a goddess, instead of...what? Fearing and desiring her like Harris did? Was there even an answer? "I'll go anywhere with you, do anything for you."

"Kill yourself."

Falco froze in surprise. Blue watched him carefully, her head tilting slightly to the side as she did. Harris felt a strange shiver pass through him. She was the fire. Was anything impossible for her. If she asked it, would he kill himself? Surely not, surely he controlled himself and had only taken what he wanted from her. But...that fire, it drove you mad. It made you forget yourself and the limitations of the world. When he and her were one, nothing was impossible, nothing was too much to ask.

"What are you talking about? That's crazy." Falco took a step back from her, his face twisting up in worry and concern. Blue sighed as she reached up and brushed at some of her loosely blowing hair. She carefully slid it back behind her ear as she watched him. "I just think we could be happy together. That we would be good together."

"Happy?" Blue laughed. "I'm only happy when I'm doing one of two things. And us good for each other? Are you being good?" Harris sensed the danger a half instant after she spoke those words. Blue's final question, for which there was no answer, either for herself or her prey. Her hand that had been behind her ear suddenly snapped forward, a flash of light marked the speeding knife that hurtled into Falco's throat. He gasped in surprised pain as he staggered back, his hands tearing open his coat as he reached for his weapons. But Blue was too fast for him, too deadly. Her sword was already out, she moved in for the kill.

"Stop this!" The descending blade of her falchion met a hardened length of bone with a sharp crack. Harris twisted his arm, the bone spur that extended from it twisted her blade away as he stepped between her and Falco. "Blue, are you mad? The Sabbat..."

"Have fired me from my employment," said Blue with a laugh as she suddenly slashed in with her blade again. "I guess that means they want me as an enemy rather then a friend." Behind him Harris heard Falco collapse to the ground, the debilitating effects of Blue's Assamite blood coated knife robbing him of strength. Her sword arced in high and fast, Harris raised his bone blade to block it. However she only lightly caressed his weapon, instead allowing her sword to skitter off it as she spun around to his left. Harris cursed as he tried to turn to follow her, but she was too fast.

There was an explosion of pain in his chest as her sword tore through his back and ripped out of his front. He looked down at the curving blade, blood spraying off the point in a crimson shower. Her hand grabbed at his face from behind, fingers hooking into his eyesockets as she jerked his head back. Her cheek was pressed against his, her soft skin so warm and inviting. The smell of his blood mixed with her smell, an enticing and intoxicating aroma.

"I thought you would understand," she whispered softly to him as she twisted her blade slowly. He grunted in pain as he felt organs rupture and blood spray across his insides. She turned his head towards her. He could just see around the sunglasses to catch a glimpse of one of the eyes that burned with azure flames behind it. Ruby lips parted as pearly teeth flashed in an eager grin. "I think you were my favorite, Harris. So, I'm not going to kill you...just yet. You be good for Blue now." 

Her lips lightly brushed against his own, the sparks of their fire danced and flew between them at even this light and chaste touch. The blade tore out of him and he groaned as he collapsed to the ground, blood spilling from his lips to coat where she had just touched. He rolled over weakly to see that she still stood over him. An angel of death with burning blue eyes. She smiled as she removed her glasses. Her eyes glowed with the heat of her cold and unbearably hot fire. And then she was gone. The fire burned through him, fiery pain from his wounds, and fiery pleasure from her touch. She was the fire, as she was his.

His, always his, always...never. Never his, not really.

For it was she who was the fire. And he was only the wood that would be consumed. 

He was hers. 

* * *

The fire burned with a madness. Eyes glazed. Blood swelled and burst. Skin cracked and split apart. Fat and muscle melted and rolled in rivers around the bones as they burned black. He was within the glory and horror of the fire. He looked at himself. He laughed.

"What the hell, are you okay?"

"Huh?" Harris groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. He was cold, so very cold. Snow drifted down, soft and white against the harsh black sky. The gentle flakes lightly caressing his skin, as she had. But now the caresses were cold, cold and uncaring. He slowly shifted his head to the side, kneeling next to him was Belle. She frowned at him, her eyes peering at his own.

"You okay? That bullet to the head really seemed to throw you for a loop."

"Bullet?" His hand reached up and felt along the side of his head. He had hair? Of course...of course. He had changed his face and body long ago, as he had changed the man. He wasn't that man anymore! He could feel the injury that still lingered under his scalp, but his blood had already repaired the worst of it. He sighed as he sat up. "No, I'm fine. I was just remembering some...old friends."

"You sure? You were saying something about a fire?"

"Yes!" His head snapped around as he glared at her. "I'm fine!"

"Keep it down," came Doc's chiding voice, calm yet obviously alert. Harris glanced around and spotted the anarch lurking near the mouth of the small and narrow alley they were crammed into. Doc seemed to be watching something carefully. Harris paused and listened, he could hear the wail of sirens and the shouts of people in the distance.

"The club?"

"The club," agreed Doc with a nod. Harris frowned as he stood up. He brushed snow from his suit and paused to check his weaponry and other equipment. Finally he nodded and looked up at the other two with a grin. "Okay, I'm fine. I know where to look now. I can handle Blue. Let's go find Eric."

He turned and walked away. Doc spared one last look at all the activity around the distant club and scowled. He puffed on his cigarette as he turned and strolled after Harris. Belle slowly stood up and crossed her arms. She glanced down at the patch of blood Harris had leaked onto the dirty slush of the alley. She listened to the sirens. She remembered the attack of the Sabbat pack within their own haven. She started walking, but quietly hissed sarcastically under her breath.

"Stealing a car would arouse too much suspicion?"


	7. Chapter Five: Into The Den of The Demon

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit

Chapter 5: Into The Den of The Demon 

Harris had Belle pull the Corvette into a small and empty parking lot. He turned to look at her again as she flipped off the engine. "Just had to steal a car didn't you?" In the back seat Doc groaned and hopped out. Apparently unwilling to listen to the argument yet again.

"I think it will help," she countered. "It got us here quicker, didn't it?"

"It's conspicuous. It's big, and red, and conspicuous!"

"Nobody's forcing you to ride. Besides, I'm still free to do what I want. You're not the boss of me!" Harris sank his face into his hands and paused for a few moments to collect his thoughts.

"Just realize, that if..."

"I know, I know. I'm fine with all your little rules. Jeez!" Harris muttered something to himself as he climbed out. Belle pretended not to hear. They started walking through the dark neighborhood. Porky had said she'd returned to her old stomping grounds. Well, this was where she had lived and hunted back...he shook away the rest of the memory. It was just too dangerous to consider at the moment. He needed to stay focused. He couldn't afford distractions.

One mistake with Blue and you were dead.

The streets were dark. Various empty lots were littered with garbage and broken junk. The building were all narrow, crooked and dark. The snow upon them didn't seem to hide this fact. Instead it seemed to settle into cracks like age does wrinkles. Adding a weary and dying feel to the buildings, their faces pale and bled dry by the creature that now lived amongst them. The area was mostly abandoned and even avoided by the Sabbat due to a lack of anything interesting in the district. It was the perfect place to remain undetected. He sniffed the air, his eyes widened in surprise.

"She's here." He sniffed again. There it was, just hugging to the edges of perception. A smell that awakened all sorts of old thoughts and ideas in him. It was the smell of wild abandon, of danger, of death. It was Blue's smell. He walked off as Doc and Belle followed. He sniffed again, it was a faint aroma, but it was growing stronger...only a few more blocks.

They followed him down the sidewalk and then turned into a narrow path between two tall tenement buildings. Harris slowly walked along the narrow alley, he paused occasionally to sniff the air or to peer into a window. Blue was close, he could practically feel her presence. Suddenly Doc grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back against the wall. Harris was experienced enough to remain dead silent. He quickly spotted the opening door that had alerted Doc. Stepping out of it came a massive mountain of a man, a form that Harris immediately knew.

"Roulda," he silently whispered to himself. The monolithic figure closed the door behind him and walked down the alley away from where Harris and the anarchs hid. Harris watched the fearsome hulk move into the street and out of sight.

"You know him," Belle asked quietly.

"Unfortunately, but there's no reason for him to be here...it doesn't make any sense. Unless... They must have left him to keep an eye on Blue. That's the sort of job he's good at." 

"Who is he, what is he?"

My brother. The one I betrayed. The one who loved me best and hates me most. Harris considered the thoughts quietly. He had never really considered the possibility of seeing his broodmate again. He knew Roulda would have suffered for the loss of his master. Harris' eyes narrowed, Roulda was dangerous enough by himself. A unshakable hunting dog. Once given a task and a purpose Roulda would keep at it until it was done or he was dead.

The fact that such an obsessive mind had been brought near Blue was a worrisome thought.

"He's a Tzimisce. A pretty tough one too. Shoot him and keep your distance, don't let him make it a physical fight and you should be okay." Harris gave the information coldly and quickly. It was all they really needed to know. Just keep the rest buried. Buried and dead like the him that that past belonged to. He was different now. He was changing within as he had changed without. He was no longer the monster.

Harris silently slipped along the wall till he reached the door. He leaned down to inspect the lock. It was simple enough. He glanced back at Belle and Doc, they were busy keeping an eye out for trouble. Harris peeled back the flesh of his finger and formed the bone into a long thin piece. He fitted it into the lock and shaped it up to become an effective key for the door. He opened it and quickly returned his hand to normal. He motioned the anarchs closer as he swung the door open.

"Doc wait here, Harris and I will head in to see what we see." Belle pulled out her guns and walked over to stand behind Harris. "After you of course." She smiled and motioned him inside. Harris sighed and shook his head as he slipped into the small building. It was a run down apartment for rent, the rooms choked in dust and the few pieces of furniture draped in white cloth. Harris slipped quietly across the floor, peering quickly and sharply around corners. His senses were strained to the limit, he knew that if Blue was here they were in danger.

Belle followed after him. Despite her smaller size she seemed to make twice as much noise. Harris realized that her movements would have still been considered silent by any human. But, Blue wasn't human...she was Blue. He prodded open the bathroom door with his foot, his muscles tense. But the inside was grime coated and unused. Even the dust of the floor seemed mostly undisturbed.. Harris quickly peeked through the rooms again, they were empty and obviously not utilized. But her scent was strong, very strong. He glanced at a door set near the back wall, a room he hadn't checked yet. In front of the door was a path clear of dust. He nodded at it.

"They'll be in the basement," he informed Belle, "stick behind me and be very careful. Blue is a dangerous woman."

"Do not worry about me, worry about our mission, no?"

"Right." He didn't much care for how relaxed she seemed, he knew he didn't feel the same. And he was probably far more experienced then her. It was important to keep an edge. Especially now, especially with Blue. He realized it would be pointless to try to warn Belle more. 

She'd just have to learn about Blue for herself. 

Harris checked the door, it was unlocked, and slowly opened it. He peered down into the basement, it was lit dimly by a large light bulb suspended from the ceiling. He could just make out a figure hung head down from a support beam. The richly dressed man had to be Eric. His clothes were torn, and stains of blood and other substances spattered them. Harris winced, he knew well how much Blue could enjoy her hobby of torture.

He scrutinized the visible area, but failed to spot Blue. Damn, their footsteps in the rooms above must have sounded like drumbeats down here. Blue had to know they were here, she had to. She'd know not to expect Roulda back so soon. She'd know to be ready. But where? Harris started down the rickety steps, keeping an eye out on the room as more of it came into view. She'd not be expecting Roulda, so where was she? The steps creaked as he continued slowly down them.

The steps.

Harris suddenly noted that they were slotted boards, leaving space between each step. And below them, an empty area, a place where someone could stand and watch people coming down through the slots.

With a yell Harris leaped off the side of the stairs and spun to face under them as he landed, his black coat swirling around him. He saw the dim outline of a figure in the shadows under the stairs. A figure he knew well. 

Blue lashed out and planted a gleaming knife in Belle's ankle. Belle gasped and suddenly seemed to freeze up as she toppled down the stairs. She tumbled and rolled down them to collapse onto the dusty floor. Blue turned to face Harris, her eyes flashed in the shadows, twin bits of gleaming blue ice. She grinned at him. He tensed, ready for anything, trying to figure out how he could deal with her by himself.

"You must be the smart one, right?" She laughed slightly. Harris didn't relax, he knew how she liked to play with her victims. "Well, there's more then one way to skin a cat."

"Hello Blue."

"Do I know you?" In those four words Harris saw his chance. Of course! She'd never seen this face he now wore. She only knew him from before, as the monster. He had a chance, a slim one, but a chance. First he'd have to slow down his racing heart, calm his nerves, appear confident.

"Yes, you know me," he said coldly as he forced himself to appear to relax. She stepped forward slightly. Slipping into the dim light, her pale skin nearly glowing in soft perfection. She wore her usual blue dress. She wore a long blue coat that hung open, half hanging off her bare shoulders. Her gleaming blue eyes narrowed as she peered at his face. One of her hands reached up to brush at her flowing blonde hair. Harris cursed himself, if anything she was more alluring now then the last time he had seen her.

Her curves were perfect. An athletic body of toned muscle, yet still with every enticing curve in the right place. The dress was tight, sheer material pulled around the soft white mounds of her breasts. Her hair hung in sculpted golden majesty around her face and eyes. Those eyes seemed to burn through him, leaving their marks upon his very soul. No! Concentrate. He saw her hand slip her hair behind her ear. That move he had seen before...

"Strange," she smiled softly, "I thought I would remember such a handsome face." Her arm spun out and sent a knife spinning through the air towards him. Harris had been ready for it though and easily ducked. He quickly rose again and pulled out the twin .45's he had concealed in his coat.

"Still keeping a knife sheathed behind your neck I see." Blue smiled at him as she raised her hands and clasped them above her head. Harris couldn't help but notice the erotically appealing pose that it created as her back arched and her chest was pressed forward. "Don't try anything else," he said coldly. "I have phosphorous rounds."

It was a lie, but it might keep her off him. He had to keep her unbalanced, convinced he was more dangerous then he was. Otherwise...he was screwed.

"I am at a loss," she said with an easy grin, still seeming quite relaxed with the situation. "You apparently know all about me. Yet I know nothing of you."

"That's true, now why don't you go and pull that knife out of my friend's leg."

Blue pouted slightly, "why do we need to bring her into this." Her voice was innocent, a little girl's plea. Harris cocked his guns and forced himself to steady his aim. She was too dangerous by far to let his guard drop for even an instant. "Oh pooh, fine I'll go pop the knife out." Blue slowly made her way towards Belle. She leisurely knelt down, keeping her eyes on Harris. "Guess you can't blame a girl for trying."

"True," Harris kept the guns trained on her face. Locked in on that burning azure gaze. Blue suddenly smiled at him, her whole face lighting up. She stood, she hadn't taken the knife out of Belle. Her blue eyes glinted in the light from the bulb above her, her perfect skin gleamed. Harris snarled at her. Blue only smiled more as she walked towards him.

"You know, the first time I wasn't sure, but now..." She brushed a hand softly across her throat, the fingers dancing lightly above her full breasts. "I'm so happy to find out I was right." Harris forced his gaze to tear away from her soft white neck, forced himself to keep the burr of a threatening snarl in his voice.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It is true isn't it...almost...True...Blue." Harris shook his head, she only smiled more. "Harris, I had heard you'd been kicked out of The Hand. That was a mistake on their part, you were always so," she eyed him up and down, "good."

"Take the knife out of her, Blue." Her eyes looked into his. He saw the fire there. The fires that would swallow him alive if he let them. He snarled at her. His hands were shaking.

"And then, when Roulda told me about you killing your sire and leaving the Sabbat. Shocking."

"Do it now damnit!" Blue ignored him, her face bright with glee as she leaned in and kissed the tip of one of his guns, she looked up at him while doing so. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Her pouting red lips hung slightly open as she brushed them along the muzzle of his other gun. They glistened next to the hard metal, looking so soft and inviting.

"C'mon lover, can't you relax for a bit? What would Falco say?"

"Don't," Harris could feel the beast swirling beneath his mind. Wanting to be let out. And Blue was holding the keys. Holding them, and threatening to use them. Oh yes, she had always known what buttons to push with him. And now she pushed.

"Oh, I guess you would know, wouldn't you?" She batted her eyes, they seemed to glow with an inner light.

"Blue..."

"After all..." Her voice a sensual whisper

"...don't"

"...you got to hear his last words." She flicked out the very tip of her soft pink tongue, brushing his .45's barrel as her eyes bored into his soul.

"No."

"When you killed him."

Harris closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The memories he had tried so hard to block flooded over him. The memories of a monster. Blue easily snatched the guns from his trembling hands. He dropped to the ground and gripped his head. 

"You went and tore him apart didn't you?" Her voice, judging him. But she was right, he had done it, his only friend...Harris sobbed as he shook his head from side to side. "Did you like it? Did you get off on it?" Harris groaned as he dropped his head to the dirty floor. Her words cut through him, his lover judging him for his, now forever silent, friend. How could he even pretend to be a man when he knew he was the monster. 

"But you knew he wasn't like us, Harris. He never was. He was just playing at it. While you and I? We were the masters of the game! No shame in you proving it to him. He questioned you, and you showed you were stronger." She leaned in and pointed the guns to his head, Harris felt the wild rushing roar as his world went red. "Admit it, go on. You loved every second. Just tell Blue."

No! She was wrong, he wasn't like her! He was trying to change, she was still darkness through and through! How dare she speak to him of Falco, she had once almost killed him as well, only Harris' intervention had saved his friend! She was not his judge, she was his foe! He felt a flare of hatred, how dare she! How dare she question him, judge him, tempt him! Blinding red hot rage clouded his vision. Murderous red mist fogged his thoughts. Blue's gleaming azure eyes locked with his. Harris' hand suddenly clamped around her throat as he issued a roar of pure rage and anger. He hurled her over his shoulder to slam hard into the concrete wall.

"That's it Harris," she laughed as she rolled back to her feet. Her grin was wide, her eyes flashing in excitement as she opened her arms towards him, "come on back to Blue!" He growled as two shards of bone ripped from his forearms to jut over his hands. He leapt to his feet and spun in a tight circle. Dust swirled off him as he held the jagged spurs of bone before him. He bared his gleaming fangs at her as his form thickened, muscle and bone bulking him up. 

"I am not like you!" The bellow tore out of him painfully, his fanged mouth issuing an angry growl as he glared at her. She cocked her head at him and smiled happily.

"Now that's the Harris I knew," Blue giggled. "So...whatcha gonna do lover? Kill me? Fuck me? Not sure? No plan?" Her eyes narrowed as the grin fell away from her face, her voice becoming a cold and dangerous whisper. "Better think fast..."

She held up his pistols as he roared and charged at her, multiple thunderclaps echoed through the room as she fired into him. Harris accepted the tearing bullets as he lashed out wildly at her, Blue however easily spun out of the way of the blow. She hopped back from him and crouched at the base of the stairs. He roared as he spun after her and charged. She smirked as he dove forward, his arms lashing for her. Her legs uncurled as she sprang into the air and bounced off his back, leaping over him.

His wildly flailing arms nearly ripped into Belle's prone form as he staggered and tried to regain his balance. Blue laughed as one of her spike heeled shoes crunched into the back of his leg. Harris grunted in pain, the heels were solid steel. Bone and flesh crumpled under the speed of the strike and the strength of the metal. She danced around him as he staggered to his knees. 

He looked down at Belle's frozen form. This was wrong. He was man, not monster. Blue was a monster. Think! If you're a man, think! He then rose with a purpose. Limping, and with his right hand tucked against his bleeding belly he pursued Blue. His fanged mouth opened in a maddened snarl of bestial rage.

She quickly moved around him. He turned to follow the fluttering blue swirl of her coat, only to receive three rounds pumped into his back. He staggered as she spun around in front of him and placed both guns under his chin. Harris locked eyes with her. Woman. Lover. Warrior. Killer. Blue. She smiled...and fired.

Twin thunderclaps smashed into his jaw. His head rocked back as smoke billowed out of his mouth. Blood sprayed from his ruptured throat and torn cheeks as he collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap.

"Shame, shame, Harris, you've been letting yourself slip," she chided as she dropped his empty guns with a sigh and looked at his bleeding wounds. "Phosphorous my foot. Here, mine are loaded with hollow points. Ought to make a nice mess!" She walked up to him and looked down into his blood spattered face. "You been good?" 

She pointed the guns at his face, Harris smiled. Blue paused as she caught the slightest flick of his eye looking behind her. She heard the twin clicks of two revolvers. Blue's flashing eyes widened as she howled and spun. Belle opened fire on her. Bullets hissed into Blue, but the Assamite, even surprised, easily had the upper hand. Her automatics barked and Belle was tossed back as bullets ripped into her. Harris jerked up, his right hand opening to reveal Blue's knife. He jammed it deeply into her toned leg. Blue managed to gasp in surprise before dropping to the ground, frozen and still. Belle picked herself up and wiped at some of the gore dripping from her. Harris began pumping blood to his many wounds as he staggered to his feet.

"We better hurry," he muttered as he allowed his body to resume its more 'natural' shape.

"You're a fucking Tzimisce," hissed Belle as she pointed her guns at him. Harris turned and looked into her narrowed eyes.

"Shouldn't we worry about this later?" Belle seemed unsure. He sighed, this could get rough, how could he get her to trust him quickly? 

You're...you're a Tzimisce. A fucking fiend!" She thought him the monster. They didn't have time. He didn't have time to try and explain. The problem was solved for him when a shout and gunfire was heard from above. 

"Roulda's back," said Harris, "and it sounds like he brought friends. What's it going to be, Belle?" She paused for a split second, her eyes glaring into his. Then she quickly sheathed her guns and began cutting Eric down. The seneschal moaned weakly as Harris slung him over his shoulder and staggered up the wobbly stairs. He felt Belle's gaze burning into his back, this wasn't over for her. He suspected he may have just lost out on his second home. 

* * *

Doc crouched in the doorway as he quickly glanced around it towards the figures attempting to enter the alley. The big guy, a smaller fellow dressed in leather, and two punk rocker looking guys. Doc frowned, there had been two of them wearing trenchcoats as well when he had first seen them. 

"Probably circling in on me," he muttered as he leaned back behind the door frame. Bullets whizzed by his face and chipped off pieces of wood and stone from the alley's walls. Doc twirled one of his guns and leaned back out into the alley. He placed one round directly between one of the punk's eyes, and popped two more into the large fellow's arm, causing him to drop his machine pistol. 

Doc leaned back and smiled as the amount of gunfire at him doubled. He popped open the wheel of his revolver and shook it to empty the chambers. Spent casings bounced and clattered around his feet. Harris and Belle came up from the basement as he heard the gunfire lessen. 

"Howdy," Doc pulled out his other gun in a blur and leaned out the door to fire three rounds into the two Sabbat who were sneaking down from the other side of the alley. Their friends having paused in their gunfire to allow them to advance. He ducked back quickly. "We should probably get out of here, now."

"Agreed," said Belle as she came up and readied her guns.

"Hey," Doc said as he glanced Harris up and down. Noting the various bloody bullet wounds in his gray suit. "You look like hell."

"No shit."

Doc quickly reloaded his empty gun. "We got two coming up the way we did, and four more at the other end."

"I guess we'll just have to force our way out," said Belle as she loaded her guns as well.

"I say we go on three, okay?"

"Agreed," said Belle and Harris.

"One." Harris readied himself for the dash, Belle cocked her guns. "Two." Doc leaped out into the alley and began firing wildly in both directions, one gun in each of his hands. 

"What fucking happened to three?" Belle cursed as she also leaped out and began firing her guns. Harris rushed after them as they charged down the alley. The two Sabbat in coats had pulled out shotguns, but were quickly blasted down by Doc and Belle. Belle charged ahead, leading the way. Harris stumbled after her, still hurting from the beating Blue had given him. Doc emptied his guns and put them away as Roulda bellowed and charged the trio. 

Doc grinned as he hooked his foot under one of the dropped shotguns and flipped it into the air. He easily caught it and pumped two rounds into Roulda's chest. The massive warrior staggered, Doc then fired one more round into his face. Roulda flopped back as Doc dropped the empty gun and pursued Belle and Harris.

Belle had already started the car and was pulling into the street. Doc rushed after it, Belle hardly slowed for him. Doc increased his pace and ran up alongside the speeding car, he opened the door and leaped inside as Belle continued to accelerate.

"You could have slowed a bit."

"I thought you were supposed to be fast?"

"We have problems," cut in Harris.

"What problems," asked Belle in annoyance. She motioned to the street they were driving down with a shrug. "Looks like a clean getaway to me."

"One of the guys back in the alley was Michael Cooler."

"The Archbishop!"

"Yeah, and I bet he's calling in to the guards at the border now."

"Can't we just break through," asked Belle as she pulled onto another street.

"Not without a fucking army."

"So...what do we do?" 

* * *

Cooler closed the cell phone and shoved it back in his pocket. The guards at the bridges would be ready. He then quickly bounded down the stairs into the basement. He glanced down at the fallen form of Blue as she lay sprawled on the dusty floor. What had this pathetic nothing been thinking, he thought darkly. How could she have ever thought she could affect him. Him, an archbishop of the Sabbat, when she was nothing? 

He lowered his shotgun towards her head. She had blown it all, a perfect plan ruined because she had wanted to toy around with him. He scowled at her and his finger tightened on the trigger. The door slammed open as Roulda barreled down the stairs and quickly knelt by Blue. Cooler swung his gun back up to his shoulder in surprise as the dangerous Tzimisce ignored him in favor of Blue. He noted how quickly Roulda's loyalties had switched from the Sabbat to the Assamite. A change he didn't approve of at all.

"Mistress, are you well," Roulda asked as he pulled the knife from her leg. Her eyes flared open, suddenly Cooler didn't feel quite so much power over her as her blazing blue orbs locked with his gaze for a moment. He took a step back, hardly aware he was doing so. After an instant, that seemed an eternity, she glanced away from him and back to Roulda.

"Well enough," she hissed as she staggered to her feet.

"You let them reclaim Eric." Cooler was rather pleased to see the cocky bitch humbled by a few Camarilla at least. But what to do about her now? "I don't suppose you already had my information?"

"No," Blue replied as she reloaded her pistols.

"Looks like a few neonates waltzed in here and made off with your meal ticket," Cooler sneered. This was bad, but he saw a solution. He still needed her skills, and had to get her going after them. Cooler knew he'd only need to attack her pride, then just let her reclaim his prize. Then, when it was all over, then she could go to hell. And he'd be more then happy to send her there himself. "So what do you plan on doing. I won't pay you for 'just trying' you know."

"I know," Blue walked over and opened a cabinet that sat against the wall. From it she drew a gleaming falchion. Her blue eyes shone like smoldering stars in pools of darkness as she held the finely honed blade before her. "But they aren't out of Windsor just yet..."


	8. Chapter Six: Frozen Passion Amidst The C...

Returning from my sabbatical (and oh it was a highly important sabbatical, let me tell you) I decided, hey, why not update some of those stories I have yet to finish? After some considerable self debate I was forced to allow that this was an idea that seemed both reasonable and logical at the same time. (literally). Thus I have for you here the next part of Harris' little return to Sabbat turf.   
  
First off let me answer a question posted by a reviewer, the amazing (drum roll) PK'chu.! My thanks for the excited review, hope you enjoy this chapter as well. The relevance of the scimitar is minor, I simply got carried away by flavor text. However it is Blue's preferred weapon and one she is quite proficient with. Check out this chapter for her duel with Harris to find out just how deadly she is.  
  
Now, that aside, on with the tale

Adjust this, adjust that, mutter, mutter. A revision of a revision. Thanks to those who spotted the wonderful transfer errors, I've fixed them all. Also thanks to FurySForge (also known as "The Man!") for spoting the whole sheathing thing. Very red faced was I (the great Thor) to be nailed for such an obvious sort of error. Oh my poor ego, ouch, ouch. (By the by, I do happen to know a rifle holster is commonly called a rifle sheath...but I suppose I'll wait till later to try and learn if you holster it or sheath it.)

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit 

Chapter Six: Frozen Passion Amidst The Cold Fire 

The storm had risen up like the doom that was around them. Sharp, bitingly chill winds roared through the air, seeping feeling from numb fingers and causing all but the most hardy of people to flee indoors. Snowflakes fell in swirling clouds. More snow was tossed and buffeted down the streets by the wind, almost slashing in horizontally at people. The city groaned under the onslaught, old and new structures groaning in protest from the wind and frost.

The bridge was a powerful and tall structure. Steel support cables creaked as they shifted slightly in the gusting breeze. It's long, dark expanse was empty and deserted, as were the rest of the frost slicked streets. The few lights near the top of the bridge winked and flashed in the darkness. Appearing as eyes desperately attempting to see their way through the storm, to safety.

The car was parked in a side street half a block away. Four figures stood around it in the billowing snow, discussing their fate. They had driven up as close to the river dividing Windsor and Detroit as they safely could. Now however they had to figure a way across. And there were a whole passel of packs guarding it.

The figures lurked around the bridge. Their booted feet crunching in the snow as they circled about. Others lurked nearby, sitting on trashcans and sharing cigarettes. The figures all wore long dark coats, or thick leather jackets. Their faces were pale, but it wasn't from the cold. The harsh wind and deep chill didn't seem to affect them as they went about their business. Their eyes gleamed with a feral and unnatural light. They were hunters, looking for prey.

This is the most ridiculous rescue attempt I have ever witnessed, muttered Eric as he stood by the car with his arms folded. The breeze blasting through his short hair and revealing some of the garish scars and stains that still marked his once smooth skin. And to be rescued by your kind, he nodded towards Belle who was sitting on the hood of the car, disgusting and degrading.

Maybe you'd like to go back and show us how to do it, snarled Belle and if we so offend you, feel free to turn yourself over to those friendly Sabbat around the corner. I'm sure they'd love to see you again. 

Could I remind you we do have Sabbat around the corner, sighed Harris, from where he stood near the edge of the alley. Belle and Eric both fell silent, but each continued to give the other venomous stares. Doc shook his head at the pair as he calmly loaded his pistols. Harris meanwhile returned to watching the patrols near the river. Carefully easing his eye just around the corner so as to remain unnoticed. He silently counted off timings and attempted calculations. Trying to spot the best hole in the patterns of the guards. The biggest problem being, there wasn't really a pattern.

Why the prince would entrust my life to a gaggle of slack jawed anarchs I shall ever wonder.

Well I shall ever wonder why we bothered to save you. Belle hissed. I bet the Sabbat are throwing a party right now because we took you off their hands!

Perhaps if this was an actual rescue instead of an exercise in stupidity, started Eric, but he was suddenly silenced as Doc put one of his guns to Eric's temple.

Be quiet. Doc eyed the seneschal carefully as he held the gun utterly motionless against his head. Belle smirked, but then Doc turned his cold gaze to her. Both of you. They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Doc holstered his pistols and turned to glance at Harris. Harris looked back at him and shook his head. Doc frowned. 

The snow fell around them, slashing about them and coating them in cold and frost. The flakes stung at Harris' eyes as he leaned back his head in annoyed defeat and stared at the sky. It was too random. Yet still damn effective and entrapping. There was no way out. The sky rumbled slightly, as though some god had found amusement in their plight. Harris' gray eyes narrowed in annoyancehe paused. His eyes widened as he stared upward. He slowly grinned. Snapping his fingers as he spun around to look at the others Harris almost seemed to be laughing.

I've got an idea! 

* * *

Octavian stood near one of the bridges that connected Detroit with Windsor. His eyes watched the dark bridge as snow and wind roiled forth from behind him, catching at his brown coat and flapping it about his muscular frame. Some city official had closed the bridges down, shutting off traffic. This wasn't unheard of in a stormexcept for the fact that prince Steven had heard nothing about it, it had just happened. If Steven hadn't heard about it, it meant the Sabbat had to be involved somehow.

Octavian had contacted Nicolai. The Nosferatu had been most forthcoming about some information. He had spoken of hearing interesting reports of a small fire-fight and some fleeing figures. Some of them fit Belle's and Doc's descriptions. But more importantly, one of them fit Eric's. Octavian had quickly contacted Steven again, and marshaled quite a few watchers on this side of the river. 

The problem of course being that they were on this side of the river. And Eric and the anarchs were over there. Octavian grimly noted that Belle hadn't contacted him upon locating Eric. While he was at it, Octavian wondered why she had even been in Windsor. Add to that the fact prince Steven was frothing at the mouth demanding Eric be brought forth unharmed, yet still not willing to commit more forces to the effort. Octavian was beginning to wish he had the power to push past the Sabbat defenders and into Windsor itself. Just solve the whole mess with some fire and blades. The best defense and all that

called Michael as he trotted up. His black coat hung open, in total disregard to the cold. A slip that Octavian noted could make the difference between preserving or destroying the Masquerade if uncareful. He would have chastised his childe, but at the moment more important matters loomed before him. I've gotten up all the scouts we could muster, but I'm afraid that news of theincidents are spreading through the city. Especially among the anarchs. 

Octavian frowned, he didn't need any anarch help' for their beloved leaders now. This was a delicate situation that needed to be played carefully.

Leave that to me, you watch this bridge. Don't go over there, don't even go onto the bridge. We can't afford a direct confrontation with them.

But sire, began Michael, the dangerous young man always eager for a fight.

said Octavian darkly. The one word being more then enough to silence his childe. He felt for Michael's opinions, they mirrored Octavian's own, but Michael had to remember his sire's word was law. Octavian turned and started walking down the waterfront towards the next bridge. He'd have to recheck how ready it was. He walked by one of the observation posts and nodded at the two Brujah there. They nodded back as he passed.

said Sam as he leaned against the railing and turned to watch Windsor. Can you really believe that Belle went over there?

That's La Belle Dame Sans Moris, said Nelson with a sneer. Sam rolled his eyes. Her name is death man, she can whup the shit outta a couple Sabbat. I only wish we'd been there to go over with her.

She's got Doc, pointed out Sam. The deadly gunslinger had always given him the creeps. But it was widely accepted that there was hardly anyone more deadly amongst the anarch's ranks. At least so it was said to Doc's face. When he wasn't around a surprising number claimed they could take him.

Hell, I know that. I'm just saying as how I'd like to be there to kick some Black Hand ass with her, snapped Nelson as he took a puff of his cigarette.

Hey guys. They both turned in surprise at the voice. Stepping out of a nearby darkened alley came the unmistakable hunched form of Marv. He rested his hands comfortably in his coat's pockets as he strolled up to them. Hey Sam, how's the arm?

Fuck you man, that shit ain't funny no more!

What the hell are you doing here, asked Nelson with a frown. I thought you were busy getting piss faced drunk and sitting on your fat ass. Why the sudden interest in tracking us down?

Ah, that's just coincidence. I came down here cause of what I heard. Is it true that Harris went over inta Windsor?

Harris who?

Y'know, Suit, chimed in Sam. Always all dressed up in one. Sitting in the back all quiet like. The anarch banker, guy? Suit.

Oh yeah, Suit. Nelson turned to scowl back at Marv. He pulled out his cigarette and puffed a stream of smoke into Marv's face. Why the fuck do you care?

He's a friend, said Marv simply.

So I oughta help out. Besides, I owe him something Sam and Nelson looked at each other in surprise. Nelson then turned and laughed right in Marv's face.

That has to be the stupidest thing I ever heard! Just cause he's your friend, you, by yourself, are gonna do something about the Sabbat. Hah hah! If that ain't the stupidest plan around! Look around, the Camarilla ain't hopping in, and the anarchs sure ain't. Why the fuck would you want to?

he's my friend, said Marv, a confused look on his face.

Damn Marv, I got a lotta friends, said Sam with a shake of his head. Nelson laughed and laughed, his head shaking from side to side while he pointed at Marv. Marv's eyes narrowed.

I don't. 

The cold tone of his words cut Nelson's laughter off, and almost gave him enough warning to leap back. Marv's hand snapped up to grab onto Nelson's arm. There was a popping noise as the arm was twisted and broke. Marv's head snapped forward into Nelson's face, smashing apart his nose, and creating splintering fractures in his skull. Sam cursed and reached under his hunting vest for his gun. Nelson flopped back in pain and slumped up against the railing as Marv pulled out a Desert Eagle and pointed it at Sam's head. 

I wouldn't. Sam froze. Marv reached over and plucked the cigarette out of Nelson's mouth and put it in his. He then casually grabbed the anarch and flipped him over the railing of the walkway to fall into the freezing river below with a loud splash. He turned to eye Sam darkly.

Whoa now, easy big guy, stammered Sam as he stepped back. I don't need no trouble, I know what that gun can do, remember. You took it from me fair and square, no hard feelings right? SuitI mean Harris is your friend, that's cool. We're all cool, right? Right?

Get the fuck outta here. Sam nodded and rushed off. Marv shook his head and puffed on his cigarette. He looked down at the gun in his hand. So he had gotten it from Sam, that was good to know. Probably explained why Sam' was engraved on the handle instead of Marv'. He nodded to himself as he placed it back under his coat. He then looked out across the dark waters of the river towards Windsor. His pal was there, but what could Marv do? All he knew was he had to return what he owned to Harris. Marv shook his head. If only he knew exactly where Harris was.

If only there was a sign. 

* * *

This is your idea, sighed Belle as she stood upon the snow covered rooftop. Harris nodded to her as he kneeled by the edge of the roof. The snow around them swirled in little eddies and swarms as the breeze roared over the raised edge of the building. "Le réalité et toi, vous ne vous entendez, n'est-ce pas?"

For once I agree with the churl, sneered Eric. Doc placed a cigarette in his mouth and shook his head as he looked at Harris' planned route. Harris muttered under his breath, suspecting Belle's comments had been less then complimentary. He found it strangely comforting that at least he couldn't understand the remarks.

Seems like it might work Doc finally allowed. Harris smiled as he stood up, exposing himself more fully to the wind. His tangled hair caught and danced in the breeze as his gray eyes inspected the powerline that ran into the side of the building just a few feet below him. 

The thick cable then ran across the street to a large cement power pole that stood next to the river. Ringing the pole was a narrow platform, good for a bit of movement. Then only about twelve feet away from that was part of the bridge.

All we have to do is shimmy along this, said Harris pointing at the power line, reach the tower, and then leap from it onto the support cables for the bridge. Harris motioned at their path again, hoping to instill confidence in the others. Then we're as good as free! The others failed to share his enthusiasm. he snapped, none of the Sabbat are looking up, as long as we stay quiet andwell, does anyone have a better plan?

Belle smiled as she walked up to the line. Screw it, you only live twice. 

She reached down to grip the wire and swung out onto it. She quickly hooked her feet as well and began to slowly work her way across. Her long hair blew gently in the cold air as she slowly slipped along the damp and slippery cord. The cable swung slightly in the breeze, the motion more pronounced due to Belle's weight. She moved slowly, seeming to take forever to gain even a little bit of progress.

Harris watched tensely as he looked down to the ground far below. He wasn't worried about the damage she might take if she fell. It was all the men lurking down on the ground. He eyed the Sabbat guards, all of them concealing a few weapons under their coats and jackets. If they were spotted this could get real messy, real quick. After a few more tense moments Belle was waving proudly from the tower.

Your turn lord, said Harris as he motioned to Eric.

Forget it, this is insane and I will he stopped as Doc's gun was pressed to his head.

Soon Eric too was on the tower. Harris motioned to Doc, who easily swung out and started his trip across the wire. The anarch moving with a speed and unnatural grace that almost made the trip seem simple. When he made it Harris stepped over the edge of the roof and swung out onto the cable.

The cold sealent seemed to burn at him, cutting through his hands and leaving them sore. He hooked his legs together over the cable and started to efficiently pull himself towards the tower. The snow billowed around him as, far below, the Sabbat packs circled and kept a watchful eye out for any intruders. 

As Harris climbed he watched Belle make a graceful leap out onto the bridge. She thumped against it with a noise that seemed deafening to him, but which thankfully none of the Sabbat noticed. Doc then grabbed Eric and simply hurled him across the gap into Belle's waiting arms. 

As he reached the halfway point Harris suddenly paused, and sniffed the air. There was a scent of wild abandon, of danger, and of death floating along the air now. He felt his heart lurch in his chest. He knew that smell. He glanced back to the roof behind him and saw two figures climbing off the fire escape onto it. One a large and dark form in a black chauffeur's uniform. The other a alabaster goddess with sapphires for eyes. Roulda, and Blue. She smiled her to die for smile as she tapped her gleaming sword on the palm of her hand.

Welcome to my web, said the spider to the fly. Her eyes seemed to spark as blue fires gleamed out of them. Her breath was sultry and mysterious. She was here for him, she wanted his blood. And what Blue wanted

Harris cursed and began to pull himself along faster, a cold sweat breaking out across his body. Blue, damn! Doc had already leaped to the bridge and he and Belle were now just noticing the danger. They clung there to the bridge with Eric, fear for him in their eyes. Not that Harris doubted for a minute Blue would stop once she had destroyed him. But if he could just get to the other side first, cut the cable.

Harris felt the wire shift and glanced back. Blue was walking out onto it as though it were a tightrope, her dainty and elegant bare feet stepping surely on the slippery cable. Her smile flashed at him, all gleaming pearls and promised horror. Under her breath she hummed a tune. Holst's Pluto, the Harbinger of Death. Doc raised his pistols, and then glanced at the packs below, uncertain whether the noise of his guns would be worth it. 

Harris pulled faster still, behind him he felt the shifting as Blue closed in quickly. His hands were shaking as he sped across the wire and reached out to pull himself onto the small metal platform that ringed the top of the electric pole. He heard the rustle of a coat on the wind, and felt the cable shift even as he pulled himself onto the platform. He quickly spun around to the other side of the pole as Blue leapt off the wire and to the pillar. Her blade swished through the air his head had just vacated. 

Harris sprang to his feet. She was here, they were all dead. But no, maybe it wasn't over just yet. The others were close, very close to safety. Perhaps all they needed was for her to be delayed, even if only shortly. A gleaming spur of bone slid from his wrist. His eyes narrowed as he lunged for her. But she batted aside his attack casually, he stumbled back as he ducked away from a stunningly fast return riposte.

Where oh where has my little Harris gone, said Blue, half singing, as she circled the platform. Harris circled as well, keeping the thick cement pole between Blue and himself. Occasionally she would slash and he would duck away again. I remember when you'd have ripped someone's head off for playing this sort of game, she said with a slight laugh.

I'm a different man then I once was.

Her blade slashed out, Harris took a quick step back and almost fell off the edge. He twisted and quickly moved to avoid the fall and a second slash. She circled close after him as he backpedaled away. She suddenly snapped her hand up, her sword whirring through the air in a sudden blur. He hissed as she managed to slice his upper arm with a shallow cut. He swung his arm out in a wide series of swings, fighting for space. 

Her laughter was a musical song as she turned away and grabbed onto the post. Leaping into the air she swung around the pole, her blue coat flapping around her as she sailed towards him. He spun in desperation, his bone blade snapping out in a wild thrust. But she seemed to glide underneath it, her free hand knocking his weapon out wide as her blade hissed up and slashed along his cheek. Before he could even feel the pain of the cut she had slipped back, her eyes flaring with cerulean flames.

It had been a mocking cut, she could have slain him. But no, Blue liked to play with her food.

I think I liked the old you better, she offered with a smile as she shifted her sword slightly and offered the smallest of openings to her thigh and abdomen. An obvious ploy and trap.

He was a callous killer, gasped Harris as he slashed at her face, forcing her back a half step.

Blue suddenly twirled back the way she had come. She spun directly in front of Harris as he twisted to face her. She thrust her blade at his throat. He lashed up with his bone spur and barely deflected the lunge. She pressed in and they ended up with locked weapons face to face. Harris snarled and pressed into her, her scent mingling with the aroma of his own blood. He looked up at her and paused. 

Blue's eyes had grown sad as she looked deep into his. He felt the pressure on his blade lessen slightly. Harris tensed, expecting some clever trick that would maim him and leave him helpless for her to consume. Her fixation with diablerie being the primary cause that had lead Anne to expel her from Hand operations. But, this didn't quite feel like a trick. 

I could have had you just now, she said softly, her eyes looking confused. I didn't want to.

Harris looked at her, he could feel the odd tone in her voice. She wasn't toying with him anymore, she was genuinely torn over something. Her eyes had gone liquid soft, gentle. No longer were they fire. They were deep pools of water. Crystal clear and magical, able to drown a man within them. What do you

I loved you once, did you know that. 

Her eyes glistened as she looked at him. That was not her question. This was not her way. Harris' eyes looked into hers and saw that she was treading unknown territory for herself, as well as him. Her eyes of pure blue water reflected his own image back to him. He had seen her on the dock when she had almost destroyed Falco for suggesting such things. Had known her on the beach, known her as a wild temptress. But he had always feared her, or hated her, or opposed her, or respected her. He had never considered this.

Even as he spoke the word he knew the truth of it in his heart. He realized he had always known.

did you?

Harris breathed deeply, his breath misting around them. Oh yes. 

Her eyes grew cold again, the water hardening to ice. She shoved into him, Harris stumbled and grabbed onto the pole with one hand. He spun around it tightly and came around to slash sharply at her back. But she was better then he, she pirouetted and used her blade to lock his spur against the unyielding cement post. He tugged at it, he was trapped.

Why'd you have to come back into my life like this, she asked softly, again pausing the fight when she might have had him. You make meyou cause confusion.

I was thinking the same thing. He twisted his arm, shoving her blade out wide as he thrust for her face. But she danced back and spun away around the post again, her eyes glinting with the joy of the hunt, the thrill of it all. She chuckled. 

This, he knew, was the true her. True Blue. This danger, this passion. She had always been like this, Harris thought to himself as they circled the post. She was like fire, ever changing, ever deadly. He had been drawn to her, burnt by the flames yet worshipping their warmth at the same time. He had been burned, and loved her for it. And had she loved him for so enjoying her heat? Her eyes flashed in the darkness, pits of blazing blue. 

You always enjoyed this didn't you, he asked as he circled after her. You and I Blue. You were the fire that burned away my sense and made me capable of acting like you. But you were meant to be the fire, you were meant to be what you are. II was only playing at it.

No! You were not playing! Her sword slashed up, catching his blade and pulling it over his head. She stepped in fast and hard, her knee rising in a fast jab as she smashed it into his soler plexus. He grunted in surprised pain and stumbled back. You and me, Harris! You weren't like Falco, and Anne, and the others. You understood!

That was a different me, he growled as he steadied himself and glanced up at her flaming gaze. She twisted around and backhanded him. He quickly raised his own hand, barely blocking as he swung down and slashed at her again. But she was too fast, she moved away before he could touch her. The fire made me mad! I could never be like you are.

Blue smiled at him, she spun around sharply and came up in front of him, her sword out wide, leaving herself open, vulnerable. It seemed unthinkable that she could make such a mistake. Harris drew back for the strike, but paused. He looked into her flashing eyes. She had meant the openness, she had done it on purpose. Daring him to strike and slay her. And he hadn't, she smiled.

If a game it must be, then it is a game worth every instant, she said calmly. Then her eyes burned as she looked at him, he could almost feel the heat wash off her, pushing back the icy wind and the snow. Forgotten was the mission. Forgotten were the others. Forgotten was all, but her eyes of gleaming blue. There's still time, if you still want to play the game with me. Her voice was an eager whisper, a promise of passions undreamed. He knew she wanted this too, wanted to see her flame reflected back to her in his worshipful eyes. She walked towards him, her heat and her body so near. Come to me, Harris. Tonight! We can ignite the fire again.

Harris could feel the purr of the beast within. It called to him seductively, he looked into her crystalline eyes and saw wonders and pleasures promised there. He could feel the urgings of the old him, for a return to the wild nights where blood flowed like water and anything was possible. Her eyes flashed, he would forget all his old pains. His soul would suffer no longer, she would burn him clean and remake him once more. He would be free, the pain would be gone. The memories would be blackened and destroyed! 

It would all be so easy 

But then he slowed. A soft and simple tune flowing through his thoughts. He recalled the pure and perfect voice of an innocent singer, and of a promise he had made himself. The fire seemed to fade from around him. The biting chill of the night once more filled him.

I'm not that man anymore. His heart nearly ripped from his chest at the words. Paradise slipped away from him. The light faded from her eyes, they went killer cold. She snarled in his face. 

Then you're nothing to me anymore either! 

She lashed out and kicked him in the shin, as he jerked in surprise she smashed her forehead into the bridge of his nose. Harris staggered back as her blade ripped through his belly, she twirled and cut downward into his shoulder.

Harris collapsed to his knees as he heard Belle call out in fear. Roulda laughed and began firing his gun at her. Doc snarled and returned fire, his bullets slapping into the massive beast and seeming to do no permanent damage.

Harris looked up through the billowing snow at the angel of death wrapped in a shroud of blue who stood over him. Her eyes glinted in the snowy air like twin pieces of the coldest of ice. Harris coughed up a stream of gleaming red blood. It arced through the snowy white air and fell to the street below. The Sabbat packs were starting to fire wildly up at Doc, Belle and Eric. It was over. Harris glanced back at Blue.

Her eyes bored into his as she leaned down and grabbed his shirt collar.

He awaited his death. 

She pulled him against her, her lips were like fire as they met his. Soft and as smooth as liquid, yet demanding and insistent. Her soft tongue lapped at the blood caking his face as she pressed against him. Her kiss, a savage thing. Savage and endlessly angry, an explosion that blasted away all the dull gray years between the now and that one fiery night when she had been his alone. 

She'd always be his. Always and never. Never. The beast roared and Harris felt his frame shake. Warrior. Killer. Woman. Lover. Blue. Inside him the cage was torn to shreds and the monster flowed through him. 

He clutched her to him as he attempted to claim all of her through this single kiss. They battled, accepted, and warred again. Each seeking to claim from the other and seeking to give as well. The fire, she was the fire, and she would consume him. 

Always and never. 

Harris knew that she had and would always be the woman of his dreams and fantasies. His goddess. His Bluehis True Blue. Never

Blue suddenly broke the kiss and pushed him back.

Damn you Harris.

I know.

This is it, whatever was between us is now dead.

I know.

If you ever cross me again, one of us will...

I know.

Blue twirled her sword up behind her back as she stepped away from him. Harris watched her golden blonde hair whip around her face as a flurry of snow billowed around her. She smiled slowly at him, Harris felt a sense of loss that was deeper then even he could have imagined. Her gleaming blue eyes flashed as she tipped back over the edge of the platform. Her arms flew out wide, her blue cloak fluttered around her as her hair swirled. 

Harris leaned forward in shock, blood and the scent of her clinging to him. He reached out, as though he might entrap her again, but she was gone, she was his past, his wild nights, and he had pushed her away. The cold wind buffeted against his face like a lover's final slap. He watched the ivory face wrapped in a field of blue and surrounded by a blaze of whiteness. Her azure eyes gleamed as she fell like an angel to earth. The beast bellowed within Harris as a gleaming tear of blood trickled down his cheek. 

He stood up and looked skyward. He howled. The monster wailed for its loss, and then once more faded as he became Harris once more.

Gunfire split the night air as he turned and leapt through the gusting clouds of snow for the bridge. Doc's hand reached out to grab him as he slammed into the side of the cable. 

C'mon, we best get moving. Without even a grunt of effort Doc hauled him up on top of the treacherous perch. Bullets whizzed around them as the scampered along the slippery ice coating the cable. Harris tried to reorder his mind, the monster was loose in his head and he couldn't think straight. 

A bullet clipped his shoulder, only Doc's steadying hand saved him from the fall. They continued slowly forward, below the Sabbat laughed at their sport. Belle was hit by a bullet and was suddenly cast off the edge. When Doc reached out for her he too fell. Harris cursed, Eric twisted about in fear. He began to slip, Harris grabbed on to Eric's pant leg and gripped tight to prevent the seneschal from falling. He glanced over the edge at the crumpled forms of Doc and Belle far below. This was it, the Sabbat were closing in. 

They were out of options.


	9. Chapter Seven and Epilogue: The Thief Wh...

Well, all good things come to an end, but apparently so do my stories. This was really just supposed to be a re-write, but it still seemed to run away with me a bit. Already I have more stuff planned out. It's all Harris' fault, really. The poor guy just screams out to be abused and used. He's got far too much angst and style for me to leave alone for long. Also, a huge thanks to PK'chu, for actually pointing at one of my characters specifically and saying "Me like!". As a result of this (and to be honest I always intended to use the character more anyways) I'm afriad that Blue may just not be done with Harris yet either. In any case, read on, there's still a bit of time left in the night for...

The Thief Who Came In From The Cold: A Tale of Detroit

Chapter Seven: The Thief Who Came in From The Cold 

Roulda watched the fluttering blue coat as Blue plummeted from the tower down to the ice caked pavement below. He growled and leaped off the edge of the building. He slammed to the ground and rushed over to his fragile mistress. She lay motionless, staring up into the night sky. She turned to look and him and smiled wistfully. 

Roulda shook with anger, first Harris had taken the master from him, and now he had started in on Blue as well! Roulda vowed that Harris would not come between him and his one love. He looked up, his eyes flaring red, at the teetering form of Harris as he crouched upon the bridge cable. It appeared as though he was trying to prevent Eric from falling. Roulda growled and raised his gun. 

For my mistress! he bellowed as he squeezed the trigger. 

* * *

Aw no, aw hell. 

The bullets slammed into his chest, his body shook at the impact, his muscles jerked. Flesh was torn apart as the metal slugs ripped through him. He let go of Eric as he too toppled back. The senschel plunged out of sight with a startled scream. The icy cable offered little to hold onto as Harris collapsed and slid off it. His fingers scrabbled uselessly at slick and smooth metal, then he plummeted to the bridge below. Luckily there was no traffic, the Sabbat had had officials close the bridge down. Unluckily it was still a hard concrete surface to impact. Harris groaned in agony as he began to pull his body back into working order.

I told you this was a damn fool plan, hissed Eric as he staggered to his feet. 

Even as Eric rose bullets slammed into him, casting him to the ground. Harris looked back, dozens of Sabbat were charging down the bridge for them. He looked the other way, no Camarilla guards. The ones that were there probably didn't even realize how important they were. Well, amended Harris, how important Eric was. Doc tottered to his feet and began firing at the Sabbat. Belle propped herself up on one arm and fired at them as well. 

* * *

The one word brought a halt to his attack. Roulda glanced over in surprise at the delicate figure who stood next to him. Her bright blue eyes watched the fire-fight upon the bridge. As he looked down at his small mistress Roulda felt a twinge of unease pass through him. Slender hands tugged at her blue gloves as she pulled them tighter around her fingers.

Harris isn't going to make it, she commented quietly. I had thought my fall would have allowed him to escape. But, he's too injured and the Sabbat are too many.

Of course, mistress. I shall claim his head for you myself. Even as he made to depart Roulda felt a small gloved hand rest against his bicep and urge him to halt. His heavy brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced back at her. 

You may consider my employment with the Sabbat complete. I failed my mission and shall expect no pay or recompense for my activities. I shall see that Cooler's down payment is returned in full with interest. I shall now again be a free agent, and shall act appropriately. Do you understand?

don't leave me. Roulda looked at her, feeling his world slipping away around him. He had lost yet another, it wasn't right. Her blue eyes watched him, they seemed to grow frigid cold and burningly hot in the same instant.

You want to come with me, Roulda? What of Cooler and your sect? Are you being good?

I know not. Right, wrong. Just, unjust. I simply desire to be with you and serve you always, mistress. Blue looked up at him, her eyes deep and deadly. Her hand reached up to catch at some of her hair as she gently pushed it back behind her ear. 

Then the hand came forward again and brushed lightly at his face.

You have some of the same blood that flows in him. It is not much, perhaps though, it is enough. Roulda nodded slowly. Not understanding, yet realizing he had what he wanted. He was hers, and she had accepted him. She was his mistress, always. she said with a small smile, her eyes glinting, I suppose we should see to acting appropriately. 

* * *

And it all seemed to be going so well, sighed Harris as he tried to stagger forward on a broken leg. Bullets sparked around him as he twisted behind another of the support cables. He glanced around it at the Sabbat that were coming for them. They fired as they charged forward. Occasionally also ducking for cover behind some of the support cables and maintenance boxes of the bridge. He and the others were fighting a moving retreat towards Detroit across the abandoned bridge. Harris raised his .45 and fired off three more rounds, then scowled at the sharp click. That's it! I'm out!

Belle dived and rolled to the side as a spray of bullets sparked against the railing she had been crouched in front of. She rolled up to her knees and squeezed off a few quick rounds at the Sabbat. She was looking worn out, low on blood and sporting half a dozen bullet wounds. Doc slowly backed up, he fired slowly and methodically at the packs. Carefully picking off the most dangerous, or the closet of them. But Harris knew it was all in vain, they couldn't make it.

The scream was sharp and sudden, yet cut through the hissing wail of the wind clearly. Harris looked up in surprise as a Sabbat stumbled out from his hiding place. His Uzi dropped with a clatter to the pavement as he clutched at his neck. Suddenly a bright wash of red erupted from his slashed throat as he sank to the ground with a moan. There was another sudden scream. Harris looked over at the collapsing shape of a large biker, a blade cutting clean through his back and out his chest, cleanly ripping through where his heart would be. The man dropped, revealing his attacker. Harris gasped.

Blue. Her eyes burning with bright intensity in the darkness. Nearby Sabbat howled in outrage as they charged her. Her blade slashed around in a flashing blur as she cut into them. Her supple body twisted about and moved away from their clumsy assault.

The Sabbat offensive faltered. Half of them turned to face this new threat, while the other half continued to focus on the weaker prey. Suddenly Harris heard a roar and looked up. Someone was driving a dented red pickup down the bridge straight at themand it came from the Detroit side of the river! 

A gloved hand was shoved through the window and fired at the Sabbat with a massive Desert Eagle handgun. One of the attackers was suddenly missing most of his face. Harris grinned when he recognized the truck as his, that meant the driver was

Hey Harris, called Marv as he slammed on the brakes next to them. It took me a while to remember how I borrowed this heap from you. I came to return it, I told you I returned things that I owed to others Nobody was listening to him, instead they were all limping desperately up to the truck. Seeing here perhaps the best chance for a clean getaway, while the Sabbat were distracted.

Harris however paused as he opened the passenger door. An icy wind fluttered around him, tossing his hair and bloodstained coat around him. He glanced back to the dark swarm of twisted shapes that clustered about a glowing goddess with azure eyes.

His cry surprised even him. He saw her glance up, and for a moment their eyes locked once again. He feared for her safety, and she knew it. One of the blazing azure eyes blinked as she winked to him, her crimson stained lips smirking in amusement. She laughed, her fangs flashed. She was exactly where she had always been, doing exactly what she was meant to. She was the death, she was the passion, she was the fire. 

Harris turned away.

Go go go! yelled Doc as he chucked Eric into the back of the truck. He and Belle leapt in as well as Harris hopped into the passenger seat. Marv grinned and slammed the truck into gear as he spun it around. Bullets ripped through it and into everyone inside. Harris heard the angry cries of the Sabbat packs as they charged, their guns blazing brightly in the snowy night. Marv slammed his foot down on the gas as they accelerated away from Windsor. 

Wow, looks like I missed one helluva good time, chuckled Marv as the gunfire rattled around them. Belle stared in shock at him as she leaned through the shattered back window. Blood leaking from her dozens of wounds.

You can't be serious.

Believe me, he's serious, said Harris 

Marv flipped on the radio and began to beat out a tune on the steering wheel as the Sabbat continued to fire at the retreating truck. I load sixteen tons, whatta I get, Marv crooned poorly. Harris shook his head as he lay bleeding and torn apart in the passenger seat. Another day older, and deeper in debt! A shotgun blast blew out one of the back lights.

Marv, get us somewhere safe, groaned Harris as he started to heal up his broken leg.

No sweat, I got a couple o friends that'll help patch ya up real nice.

Not the angel is it?

* * *

Michael Cooler roared up to the bridge, followed by The Marauders. He skidded his bike to a stop and leapt off it before it had even truly stopped. He stormed towards the bridge, his eyes angry. The packs that lurked there looked up warily. Their clothes were rent, and splashes of blood littered them. Cooler noted with even deeper anger the few bodies on the ground, who would presumably never get up again.

They're gone, and so is she. Cooler spun around at the soft voice. Anne Arbor stood quietly behind him, flanked on either side by Black Hand agents. We lost Eric, and some good men. We gained nothing.

What? Eric got away, after all this!?! He spun and waved his hand in frustration at the battle scene. He'd have to call in some major favors to help conceal the worst of this mess from the mortal media. And what do you mean, she's gone?

stated Anne calmly. She turned against the packs in the final assault and helped the Camarilla agents to escape. It was a mistake to trust her.

Anne spoke the words simply and clearly. But Cooler could well feel the sneer in her tone. Anne had predicted that Blue couldn't be trusted. But how was he to know? He had paid her well, she should have been loyal. That was the way with the Assamites. They never let anything get in the way of their contracts. What could possibly have possessed her to act so strangely? Cooler snarled, this would be costly indeed. He'd have to guard against the other bishops, hope they didn't sense his failure as a weakness and attempt to destroy him. This was all Blue's fault.

Where is that bitch?

I don't know, sir. She disappeared into the river during the fight. She was hit by a shotgun blast and fell in, no one saw her come back up.

Where's Roulda, he was supposed to watch her!

He seems to be missing as well.

Cooler's eyes narrowed as he cursed. Do we know if she's alive, or dead?

I don't know, sir, said Anne with a small shrug. However I do know that something made her turn against us, and whatever it was had to be a strong reason for her to betray her employers. Personally I'd be just as happy if we never see her again. She smiled tightly. I know I wouldn't want her still out there and hunting me.

Anne turned and walked away. Leaving a wide-eyed Cooler to stare in fear down at the black waters of the river. And wonder if somewhere in Detroit a figure with flashing blue eyes was pulling itself to safety. Cooler shivered, but is wasn't due to the cold. 

* * *

Epilogue: And The Thief Who Stayed Behind 

* * *

Harris sat in Gurdy's listening to a young country singer and his harmonica, guitar combo. The kid had some talentsome. Next to him sat Marv, who was trying to tell Harris he had seen a strip show here. Which of course was impossible, Marv had probably just been in another club and forgotten. Harris frowned to himself. It had all become one big screw job. Almost as soon as they pulled off the bridge Octavian and a pile of enforcers had popped out of nowhere. Eric had leapt from the truck and had quickly ordered the anarchs captured. Some gratitude. 

The four anarchs had wildly fled into the night, Octavian and his men hounding their every step. It had been a near thing, but they had somehow managed to elude their pursuers. Belle and Doc had thanked him for his efforts and let him and Marv know they'd always have a friend in the anarchs. Whoop-de-doo. It even looked like Belle might be able to deal with his newly revealed clan. She at least hadn't mentioned it to anyone else. He sighed, of course, how could he blame her for having trouble accepting who he was, when he himself couldn't really face it. Harris shook his head and stood up. Marv glanced over at him.

Ya cuttin' out pal?

Yeah, I just need some fresh air.

Don't do nuthin' I wouldn't do.

Harris grinned at the lack of structure in that comment as he walked outside. The snow was still falling, but now only in a thin gentle cloud. The wind had grown still, and now the flakes settled peacefully and serenely to the ground.

Harris put his hands in his coat and started walking. The city for once seemed clean and pure, the uncorrupted white snow covered the graffiti and grime that usually coated Detroit. Harris breathed in the crisp cold air as he walked briskly down a small sidewalk. Yes, the city seemed clean. But it was an illusion. Soon the snow would melt or be swept away to reveal the grime.

Was he any different then the city? Trying to hide his monster beneath a layer of comforting humanity. Was it an illusion? He was worried with how easily he had become the beast when Blue had kissed him, how quickly the past had returned. How quickly the snow had melted beneath her fire.

Nohe was different now. She was just a shadow of temptation, one that he had faced and overcome. When the fatal moment had come, he had pushed her away. He had turned from monster to man. He knew that he would do the same if offered the choice again. No, he was changing. This was his future, she was his past.

Goodbye Blue, it had been fun.

Being good yet?

The voice brought a flash of danger searing across his senses. Harris spun at the soft voice that echoed through his head. His hands leaping from his pockets and reaching for his guns.

The street behind him contained nothing but fluffy snow and whistling wind. 

If the city just remained cold, and the sky kept dropping snow. Then why couldn't the darkness be masked forever? Why couldn't the illusion become a reality? Harris glanced up at the stars over his head.

Being good yet, he echoed. I'm tryingevery night I'm trying

The End


End file.
